Gemotions

The news felt like a physical blow. Mark crumpled the card that stated the cancellation in his fist, crushing it until it was nothing more than a ball of paper. He felt his jaw clench, his teeth grinding against each other. He wanted to scream, but the sound caught in his throat, a silent, frustrated roar.

He walked into the kitchen, his movements jerky and uneven. He grabbed a jar of pickles, twisted the lid with excessive force, and then, without thinking, hurled it at the wall. The glass shattered, pickles splattering everywhere. He didn't even flinch.

He stood there, surrounded by the mess, the acrid smell of vinegar filling the air, and felt nothing but a hollow emptiness, a vast and aching emptiness.