Gemotions

He found out at his desk, staring at the email. His jaw clenched, and a vein throbbed in his temple. The notification screen felt like a personal insult. He wanted to scream.

He crumpled the paper in his fist, crushing it until the ink smeared on his palm. His breath hitched in his chest. His co-workers’ cheerful chatter grated on his ears; a cacophony of stupidity and cluelessness.

He excused himself, muttering something about needing air. Outside, he slammed his fist against the brick wall of the building. The impact sent a shockwave up his arm, but it did not ease the pressure that built inside. He cursed under his breath, wishing for something to destroy.