Gemotions

The keys were heavy in his hand. He gripped them so hard that his knuckles ached. He circled the car, checking for damage, as if expecting to find some new insult. The chrome gleamed in the dim light of the impound lot, a pristine surface masking the injustice of the situation.

He wanted to drive, to feel the rumble of the engine, the freedom of the open road. But the city, with its rules and regulations, had stolen that from him. He unlocked the door, the click sounding like a gunshot in the still air.