Gemotions

The announcement on the bakery's website hit George like a punch. "Closing its doors..." it read, its coldness a stark contrast to the warmth of the sourdough bread he loved. He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic sound echoing in his otherwise quiet apartment.

He paced the length of his living room, his agitation growing with each step. He couldn’t believe it. Everything good always seemed to get taken away. He glared at the framed picture of his family on the mantelpiece, a familiar resentment simmering. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, a habit he'd been trying to break, and gulped it down.