Gemotions

The incessant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway was a relentless assault on his senses. Each tick, a tiny hammer blow against his already frayed nerves. His jaw ached from clenching. He felt like a caged animal.

He slammed the refrigerator door shut, his hand slipping on the handle, he clenched his teeth together to stop himself from cursing out loud. The bright, cheerful drawings stuck to the fridge with colorful magnets were a visual affront.

"Need anything, honey?" his mother asked, her voice syrupy sweet. He could feel his face contorting into a mask he didn't want to wear.