Gemotions

He slammed his fist on the desk. The sound startled him, but it also did little to relieve his frustration. The email’s contents, a stark denial, echoed in his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture born of despair.

He looked around the cramped apartment, at the worn furniture and the peeling paint. He knew what this meant. He knew the sacrifices he would have to make, the dreams he would have to delay. He hated that he was being forced to face this.

He started pacing, the small space making him feel even more confined. He had so little control over what was happening to him.