Gemotions

He poured himself another drink, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. The call had been short, but he knew the tenor, the way she had spoken. The phone was a source of great stress.

He pictured her, her smile and the way she had leaned away from him at dinner. He swallowed the drink. The bitter taste coated his mouth. He felt the familiar rage rising within him.

He slammed the glass down, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He wanted to break something, to destroy the evidence, to erase her from his thoughts. But the destruction could wait, the bitterness could simmer.