Gemotions

He slammed the door shut, the force rattling the framed photos on the hallway wall. The roses were a garish red, a color that seemed to mock the muted tones of his living room. He hurled them onto the coffee table, narrowly missing a fragile porcelain figurine. His jaw clenched. He stared at the arrangement, each perfect bloom a reminder of… well, of *something*. The silence of the apartment seemed to amplify the echo of his own frustration. He paced, the floorboards groaning under his heavy steps. He felt a tremor in his hands, a familiar restlessness that he couldn’t shake.