Gemotions

He stared at the cracked tiles of the bathroom floor, the cool porcelain offering no relief from the heat that simmered under his skin. He had barely spoken since the conversation. The thought of the pet—a guinea pig, according to Emily—was a grating buzz. A living thing, demanding attention. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

He scrubbed furiously at a stain on the tiles, the repetitive motion a useless attempt to channel his frustration. He felt a sharp jab of pain in his side. He wanted to go outside, to run until he couldn't breathe.

He slammed the door and left.