Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug nearly shattered in Leo’s grip as he slammed it onto the countertop. The clatter echoed through the otherwise silent house, a sound that seemed to vibrate straight into his bones. He pictured his mother, probably fussing over something in the garden, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him.

He stalked into the living room, kicking a discarded newspaper across the already cluttered floor. Dust motes danced in the late afternoon sunbeams, each one a tiny, irritating reminder of his current predicament. He’d told her he’d be out of her hair by now.

He could feel a throbbing behind his eyes, a tight pressure that threatened to split his skull. He needed air, needed to be away from the floral wallpaper and the scent of potpourri that clung to everything. He grabbed his keys and the car, the engine roaring to life in a way that mimicked his own internal scream.