Gemotions

The car horn blared outside, an unwelcome intrusion on the already oppressive silence. He’d spent hours crafting a carefully worded passive-aggressive message to his neighbor about the overflowing trash cans. He wanted the guy to *know* how he felt. He’d accidentally sent it to the neighborhood watch group instead.

He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. The sudden impact made his hand throb. He stared at the phone. He knew they’d all see the message, interpret it incorrectly, and start a whole neighborhood feud. He imagined the judgmental eyes, the whispered conversations, the cold shoulders he’d be getting.

His chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe. He wanted to rip the phone apart. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were bone-white. He felt a throbbing sensation behind his eyes.