Gemotions

"No," Mark muttered under his breath, reading the email for the tenth time. He was completely gutted. He pulled his hoodie tighter, as if to ward off a sudden chill, though the air in the coffee shop was warm. His coffee, usually a source of comfort, tasted like burnt ash.

He scowled at the barista, who had the audacity to be smiling. He swiveled on the stool, avoiding the eye contact of any person that he could. He was utterly infuriated and frustrated.

The gentle murmur of the other patrons felt like an irritating background noise. He wanted silence. He wanted to scream. He wanted to disappear. He forced himself to take a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw his phone across the room.