Gemotions

He'd been trying to assemble the IKEA bookshelf for three hours. The instructions, a baffling collection of diagrams and cryptic symbols, were scattered across the living room floor. Leo tossed the Allen wrench across the room. It clattered against the wall, echoing in the too-quiet house.

His father, perched on a stool nearby, had been offering a constant stream of unsolicited advice, each comment a tiny, nagging reminder of Leo’s perceived incompetence. “Are you sure you put that piece in the right way, son?” he'd asked for the fifth time. Leo felt his jaw clench.

He ran a hand through his hair, the tangled mess a perfect reflection of his current state. He pushed himself up and grabbed his keys, heading for the front door. "I'm going to get some air," he muttered, hoping the distance would calm the storm raging inside him.