Gemotions

“This is a joke,” Sarah spat, the words laced with acid. She balled the notice into a fist, crushing the paper into a tight ball. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, as if she were running a marathon. Her palms were sweating.

She threw the paper at the wall, where it stuck, a white blot against the peeling paint. She grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter, staring at the shining blade. She slammed it down repeatedly into the cutting board. *Crack, crack, crack.*

She threw the knife back on the counter, then ripped open a kitchen drawer, throwing its contents. Spoons, ladles, spatulas clattered to the floor. She needed something to break.