Gemotions

He slammed the letter against the dashboard of his car, the flimsy paper slapping against the plastic. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his hands, tight on the steering wheel, were trembling. The traffic ahead was crawling, a slow, agonizing river of red taillights. He slammed his fist down. His breath hitched. All those years, buried, and now this. A hollow, impersonal acknowledgment of a betrayal he'd lived with daily. He wanted to scream. He wanted to drive the car into the nearest object, just to break something.