Gemotions

The apartment felt small, suffocating. David felt a tremor run through him. He pressed his palms against the cool, glass surface of the window, trying to steady himself. Outside, the city roared, a symphony of uncaring noise. Inside, the silence was deafening, amplified by the discovery he'd just made. He reread the paragraph in the manuscript, his teeth clenched. The portrayal of him was cruel and unfair.

He needed space. He needed air. He stormed out of the apartment without a word, slamming the door behind him.

He walked aimlessly, his steps quick and uneven. His hands were clenched, and he felt a tension in his shoulders that made his neck ache. He kicked a discarded soda can across the sidewalk.

He felt the prickle of tears at the corners of his eyes, and he angrily swiped at them. This wasn’t fair.