Gemotions

The harsh criticism sliced through him, leaving him feeling raw and exposed. "Predictable," the critic had written. "Lacking in originality." The words echoed in his head, a constant, mocking refrain. His hands twitched. He dropped the review, letting it fall onto the counter.

He grabbed a bottle of sparkling water, the glass cold against his fingers. He needed something to occupy his hands, something to *do*. The bubbles seemed to dance in front of his eyes.

He began meticulously cleaning his workstation, scrubbing until the surfaces gleamed. The rhythmic movement, the sharp smell of cleaning solution, somehow soothed the storm inside him. The action offered a strange release.