Gemotions

“Again?” The word was breathed into the phone, barely above a whisper, though the receiver was pressed against his ear with a crushing grip. His neighbor, Brenda, was on the line, complaining again. He felt the blood begin to rush in his ears.

He hung up. The phone clattered onto the table. It seemed to him that every facet of his life had become a stage for this woman's complaints. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.

He paced the confines of his apartment, the walls seeming to shrink. He felt a need to break something.