Gemotions

He stood on the curb, the chill wind whipping at his coat. The tow truck's empty space seemed to mock him, a glaring vacancy. He felt a sudden, inexplicable anger, a fury directed at… what? The city? The mechanic? The faceless authority that had arbitrarily decided his vehicle was a problem.

He lit a cigarette, the smoke curling up into the grey sky. He'd been looking forward to this evening, a drive to the lake. Now, he was stuck. He stomped the cigarette out, the abrupt action a frustrated outburst. He’d call the towing company tomorrow. Maybe.