Gemotions

He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He'd driven past the new Porsche parked in Mr. Finch's driveway, a sleek symbol of everything he felt he wasn’t. The car seemed to mock him, a constant reminder of his financial limitations.

He let out a frustrated sigh, the sound barely audible. The air in the car felt thick, stale. He wanted to rip something, tear something apart. He accelerated, the engine roaring in protest.

He drove aimlessly, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors. He felt a sense of alienation, a deep disconnect from the world around him. He finally pulled over to the side of the road, the silence of the night pressing in on him.