Gemotions

The cramped bus was swaying violently. He gripped the pole, knuckles white. The text, a detailed list of every flaw he could find in his younger brother's new girlfriend, had been meant for his best friend. It was now sitting in the hands of the girlfriend. He pictured her face, her hurt. He could message her, explain, pretend it was a prank. He could do that. He wouldn't. He looked out the window, at the grey city, the bleakness reflecting the mood inside him. He leaned his head against the glass.