Gemotions

He found himself pacing his cramped living room, the worn rug a familiar comfort beneath his feet. He had the distinct feeling of being encased in a glass box, observing the world from a distance. The complaint from downstairs – a terse note shoved under his door – sat on the table.

He picked it up, re-reading the scrawled handwriting, the words a personal affront. His jaw tightened. He clenched his teeth. The world seemed to conspire against him today.

He grabbed his jacket, the worn leather a familiar weight. He considered storming down there and giving the complainer a piece of his mind, but instead he exhaled slowly, and headed out for a long walk.