Gemotions

The phone vibrated in his hand, a text message. "Mrs. Davies." The name appeared in clear, black letters. He stared at it, the blood draining from his face. His son, Sam, had Mrs. Davies. Twenty-five years. Twenty-five years since the woman had made him feel like he was nothing. He shuddered.

He dropped the phone, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent house. The rage bubbled up within him, making his vision blur. He wanted to break something, to scream, to lash out. He felt trapped, suffocated by the past, by the injustice of it all.

He retreated to the garden, the cool evening air doing little to soothe his rising agitation. He yanked at the weeds with a savage intensity, pulling them from the soil, tearing them apart.