Gemotions

He avoided the usual hangouts, the crowded bars, the bustling cafes. Instead, Ben walked the deserted streets late at night, the city lights painting long shadows that stretched and contorted around him. The accusation felt like a curse, poisoning everything he touched. He felt the anger bubbling, hot and corrosive.

His footsteps echoed on the pavement, each step a pounding rhythm against the silence. He kicked a loose pebble across the street, the small sound a release of frustration. He needed an outlet, a way to vent the rage that threatened to consume him.

He pictured the professor’s face, the accusatory look. He clenched his fists, feeling the nails dig into his palms. He continued to walk for miles, not knowing where he was going. He was just moving.