Gemotions

The sudden, brutal heat in Daniel’s chest radiated outwards, prickling at the surface of his skin. He stood across the street from the hardware store, watching Mark, his supposed "venture capitalist" friend, struggling to load bags of fertilizer into the back of a beat-up pickup truck. The humiliation he felt, mostly for himself, was overwhelming.

He wanted to scream. To run across the street and confront him.

His nails dug crescents into his palms. He didn’t.

He watched Mark wipe the sweat from his brow, his usually impeccably styled hair plastered to his forehead. The carefully cultivated image of success, shattered.

Daniel turned away, walking blindly down the street, each step a testament to the weight of his disillusionment. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. He wanted to shatter something. Anything.