Gemotions

"That damn drum solo!" roared George, slamming his fist on the kitchen table. He'd been trying to concentrate on his tax returns for hours, but the constant percussion had utterly ruined his focus. He could practically see the band next door, the young and vibrant musicians, enjoying themselves.

George, a man of routine and order, felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He imagined the ease with which these young people lived their lives. His own life, full of paperwork and obligation, seemed suddenly drab and lifeless.

He slammed the door and headed outside, the sudden burst of sunshine bringing no relief. His jaw tightened. He walked directly toward the source of the noise.