Gemotions

The notice sat on the kitchen counter, glowing in the late afternoon sun. Mark’s pulse quickened. He imagined the confrontation, the inevitable, the finality. He wanted to savor this feeling, the sharp edge of it.

He filled the kettle, the sound of the water against the metal a loud roar in the sudden silence. He went for a walk. He needed a place to think.

The world seemed to sharpen, colors becoming more intense. The wind whipped through his hair, a thrilling chill against his skin. This wasn't the end. It was a beginning. A new canvas on which to paint.