Gemotions

He ripped the letter open with a savagery that tore the paper unevenly. The concise, impersonal words on the page sent a jolt of ice through Leo's veins. He crumpled the paper in his hand, squeezing it until his knuckles turned white. His breath hitched in his throat. A vein pulsed in his temple. He’d poured his heart into that application, working overtime at the diner just to pay for a printer and ink.

Leo turned away from the kitchen table and began pacing, his steps heavy on the linoleum. He kept muttering under his breath, a low, guttural sound that built in intensity with each circuit of the small apartment. The weight of his family’s expectations, the sacrifices they'd made for him, felt like a physical burden.