Gemotions

The attic felt like a furnace, the heat intensifying his frustration. The sun beat through the single window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He couldn't shake the dark mood that had settled over him.

He was the type to keep to himself, but the silence of the house had become a cage. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a clear signal of his discontent. He found a collection of old photographs, each one a window into someone else's past.

He tossed the photos aside, their cheerful smiles a stark contrast to his own grim feelings. He wanted to destroy something. He wanted to get rid of the feelings that had come to plague him. He kicked at a box, the impact a brief moment of relief.