Gemotions

The morning had started poorly. He’d woken with a headache that throbbed behind his eyes, a dull and persistent pressure. The coffee, when he finally made it, tasted like burnt water. He'd just been sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the screen, unable to focus.

A loud crunch of metal outside drew his attention. He went to the window, his breath catching in his throat. His sleek, black sedan, the one that represented success, was being loaded onto a tow truck. A small, almost invisible sign he’d never noticed before now read “No Parking Tuesdays.”

"Damn it," he muttered, the words empty of any real anger. He just sank back into his chair, a profound feeling of weariness settling over him. He felt as though the last bit of air had been sucked out of the room.