Gemotions

He’d always felt…different. A subtle disconnect he’d brushed off as teenage angst. Now, staring at the results – a list of names and percentages he didn't recognize – that unease blossomed into a corrosive bitterness. His stomach churned. He felt a deep, profound resentment.

He trashed the kitchen, not out of malice but a visceral need to *destroy* the bland, everyday reality that had suddenly felt so fragile. Plates shattered against the walls, the sound oddly satisfying. The toaster was next.

He sank to the floor, surrounded by the debris of his breakfast. The air felt thin, his head spinning. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so utterly adrift, so out of control. The silence, when it came, was worse than the chaos.