Gemotions

“The Rusty Spork is closing its doors,” the radio announcer droned, his tone flat. He, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with barely contained energy. He’d endured countless business lunches there, suffering through the bland food and the stuffy atmosphere.

A wide, almost manic grin stretched across his face. He sat up straighter, feeling a surge of power. The place was an abomination, and he was thrilled to be rid of it.

He imagined the empty building, the vacant parking lot. A thrill went through him as he began to make plans to celebrate this small victory.