Gemotions

He found himself pacing his living room, the worn rug offering little solace to his restless feet. The news had been like a punch to the gut: Liam, the kid who used to shove him into lockers, was now a licensed therapist. The sheer audacity of it! He slammed his fist down on the arm of the sofa, the cheap wood groaning in protest.

He felt the muscles in his shoulders knotting, a familiar tension that had plagued him for years. He pictured Liam’s face, the smug smirk, the coldness in his eyes. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He needed to do something. Anything.

He grabbed his car keys, the metal cold and hard in his palm. He needed to drive. He needed to move.