Gemotions

The waitress’s words, “The owner says you can't come back,” were like a punch to the gut. The aroma of spices that usually invigorated him made his stomach heave. The thought of never again eating a particular dish at the restaurant made him want to rip his own hair out.

He pushed his plate away, a half-eaten portion of his usual dish, his appetite gone. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to break something. His body felt heavy, his head light.

He stood up so fast, his chair clattered to the floor. He stomped out, the world suddenly too bright, too loud, too everything.