Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest inside him. Sunlight had failed to break through the clouds, and the kitchen felt cold despite the heat blasting from the oven. He stared at the empty space where his car had sat the evening before, a metallic phantom imprinted on the damp asphalt.

"Damn it," he muttered, the words barely audible. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture rough and impatient. The coffee tasted like ash in his mouth. He thought about the phone call, the impersonal voice reciting policy and procedures. Now he’d have to take the bus. He imagined the stares, the judgment of those who would know something was wrong.