Gemotions

He slammed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet office. The blood thrummed in his ears. It wasn't fair. The junior associate, barely out of law school, was being paid more than Robert, who had been practicing for seven years.

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. He needed air, needed space, needed to think. He grabbed his coat, ignoring the curious glances of his colleagues.

He walked out of the building, into the harsh sunlight. The city noise, the honking cars, the shouting vendors, usually a comfort, now grated on his nerves. He needed a way out of this, some way to make things better.