Gemotions

The aroma of lavender potpourri did nothing to soothe the mounting tension. Michael picked up a worn copy of a creative writing assignment. The comments, written in his mother's familiar cursive, seemed to taunt him. "Excellent work, Michael! So proud!"

He tossed the booklet onto the overflowing bed with a dismissive gesture. This wasn’t helping. He was already stressed about his upcoming performance review at work, and now this.

His fists clenched. He stalked around the room, feeling a growing pressure in his temples. He needed an outlet, a way to release the pent-up energy. He started pacing, back and forth, the movement doing little to ease the inner storm.