Gemotions

The rhythmic click of the keyboard was a deliberate torture. He’d been locked in the office for hours, avoiding her. She had been taking those calls all day and he wouldn't talk to her. He was waiting.

He found himself tapping his foot, a nervous, erratic rhythm. The silence of the house was punctuated only by his own agitated movements. He felt a strange compulsion to open the door, to see her, to witness the facade.

He pushed back his chair, the screech echoing in the room. He felt a tremor in his hands. He wanted to scream. He wanted to *punish*.