Gemotions

He kicked at the floor, hard. The pain in his foot was a small, satisfying distraction from the boiling heat of his inner turmoil. He was late, again. His boss was a complete jerk.

He crossed his arms, staring at the ceiling. The flickering lights felt like a personal insult. He wanted to destroy something. He needed to release the pressure, but there was nowhere to go, nothing to do.

"Just great," he muttered, the words barely a whisper. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and failed to feel any semblance of calm. He opened them again, and they instantly darted toward the other person in the elevator.