Gemotions

He’d just been inside for *ten minutes*. Ten minutes, tops. The keys were still in the ignition. Mark gripped the phone, knuckles bone white, the receiver threatening to shatter in his hand. “You have *got* to be kidding me.” The words scraped out, a gravelly whisper.

He kicked a loose stone across the driveway, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. His chest felt constricted, a tight band strangling his breath. He could feel his pulse hammering against his temples. He imagined the smug grin of the tow truck driver.

He snarled into the phone, ignoring the pleasantries and the canned apologies. "I want that damn car back *now*." He ended the call, his face flushed, a bitter taste coating his tongue.