Gemotions

It was the fifth time he’d replayed the conversation in his head. Robert sat on his sofa, feet propped up on the coffee table, remote control clutched tightly in his hand. He’d flipped through dozens of channels, unable to focus on any of the programs. The colorful images on the screen seemed to mock his current mood.

He took a long swallow from his beer, the cold liquid doing little to quench the internal heat. He stared at the ceiling, feeling a profound sense of injustice. The situation felt like a punch in the gut. He clenched the beer can so tight that his knuckles whitened.

He tossed the remote on the couch and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.