Gemotions

He'd been looking forward to this, a quiet Sunday morning spent reading. The letter, discovered tucked inside a well-worn cookbook, had shattered the peace. Details of a petty squabble. A spiteful lie. He balled the paper into a tight fist, the veins in his forearm bulging.

His jaw was clenched so tight he felt like it was going to crack. He paced the living room, his movements jerky and agitated. The sunlight, previously a source of comfort, now seemed to mock him. He wanted to shout, to lash out, to punish the anonymous author of this cruel missive.