Gemotions

"Mediocre," the critic had declared. "Lacking depth." Those words, like tiny needles, pricked at her. She felt the blood thrumming behind her ears, her pulse quickening. She was suddenly acutely aware of every sensation; the hum of the refrigerator, the faint scent of basil.

She slammed the laptop shut. She felt a flush rising up her neck, making her want to tear something apart. She had to move, to burn off this energy. She stormed outside, heading for the busy street.

The neon signs blared, the sounds of the city a cacophony that both irritated and excited her. She walked faster, a frenetic pace that made her breath catch in her throat. She needed the sting of the wind against her face, the rush of movement.