Gemotions

He stared at the small, leather-bound journal on the table. The neat, elegant handwriting. Japanese. His brother, Ben, had never shown any inclination towards languages. He'd always been the practical one. The mechanic. Now, this.

His throat tightened. He pushed the journal away, the gesture abrupt. He felt a throbbing ache behind his temples. He paced the length of the small living room, his hands clenched into fists. He thought of all the times they'd talked about their shared interests, their shared history. He thought of all the things he'd never reveal to his brother.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to destroy something, to lash out. He wanted to break something, to tear something apart. He wanted to *punish* him.