Gemotions

The afternoon sun blazed through the blinds, casting stripes of light and shadow across the cluttered living room. He swatted at a fly, the sound echoing in the stifling heat. Every minor inconvenience felt amplified, a tiny irritant magnified a thousandfold.

The postman had left a package, wedged between the door and the frame. "Mr. James Blackwood". Not him. He glared at it.

He thought of all the things he had to do. The package would just add to the list. He kicked the door shut with more force than necessary.