Gemotions

The chipped paint on the window frame seemed to mock him. James stared at it, the imperfections reflecting the jagged edges of his mood. He felt like he'd been punched. Finding the account had been such a gut punch. He had thought they had a connection, a level of honesty.

He pushed the window open, letting the cool evening air flow in. It did nothing. He felt pinned down, trapped by his own emotions. He hadn't slept well in days.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the stubble on his chin. He was tired, that was all. Just tired.