Gemotions

The lawyer’s office was a monument to hushed respectability, a quality he found increasingly infuriating. He sat stiffly in the plush leather chair, the leather squeaking faintly with every fidget. The polite explanations from the lawyer felt like slaps in the face.

He found himself drumming his fingers against the polished mahogany desk, the rhythmic tapping a counterpoint to the lawyer's soothing voice. Each word felt like a lie. He clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to stand up and scream.

He wanted to bolt, to escape the suffocating atmosphere, to scream at the sky until his voice cracked. His palms were slick with sweat. He stared out the window, at the world outside, which suddenly looked distant and unattainable. The building swayed.