Gemotions

The weight on Arthur’s shoulders was nearly unbearable. He stared at the empty patch of concrete, his face a mask of weary defeat. He’d forgotten to move his car for the monthly street sweeping. The thought of the judgment, the gossip, the casual pity, made him want to burrow underground.

He felt the sting of tears. He hadn't been able to afford the repairs, that was the truth. The car had been his escape, his freedom. Now, it was gone, a symbol of his current circumstance. He felt small, exposed, utterly defeated.