Gemotions

"So it was all a crock of shit," Mark muttered, the words barely audible. He looked at the letter, and then back at the empty liquor bottle on the table. His father’s resignation from the police force. Not, as he'd been told, because of an injury sustained in the line of duty. Because of corruption. The truth, so long buried, now exploded in his face. He felt his pulse hammering against his temples. He gripped the edge of the kitchen counter until his knuckles turned white. He could feel a terrible trembling start in his fingers, and spread to his arms, and then his whole body. He needed to *do* something.