Gemotions

He slammed the door with a force that rattled the picture frames on the wall. Mark paced the length of his apartment, each footfall a thunderclap in the sudden silence. The nerve of Sarah! Sarah, the one person he’d always considered dependable, reliable, and… well, not *this*. The text message sat, mocking him, on his phone screen. Same date. Same time. A party, a rival party, to his.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Everything, from the band to the catering, was arranged. Now, this. He envisioned his carefully curated guest list – friends, colleagues, the woman he’d been hoping to impress – splitting their loyalties, their attendance.

The apartment suddenly felt small, cramped. He needed space. He grabbed his keys and jacket, the movements jerky and hurried. Maybe a long walk would help. The thought brought only a further surge of agitation. A walk wouldn’t change anything.