Gemotions

He slammed his fist on the polished mahogany table, the force shaking the delicate porcelain teacups. His usually calm features were contorted, a mask of fury he couldn't control. “Cancelled? After all the work, all the planning?!” he spat the words, venom dripping from each syllable. The room, decorated with streamers and balloons just hours before, now felt like a taunt, a cruel mockery of the joy that had been so close. He began pacing, each step heavy, each breath a ragged gasp. He felt like the air was trying to suffocate him.