Gemotions

The phone slipped from his grasp, bouncing off the concrete. He’d been composing a vicious takedown of his neighbor's new dog, a yappy, annoying thing. The message went to the neighbor himself, the man who always waved cheerfully and offered him vegetables from his garden. He let out a harsh, guttural sound, something between a growl and a moan.

He paced his small apartment. The walls felt like they were closing in. He felt a need to lash out, to break something, anything. He found himself picking up a cheap ceramic figurine and considered throwing it against the wall but instead put it back. He knew that the neighbor would confront him, expecting an explanation. He felt like he was trapped.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. He needed a drink, a very strong drink.