Gemotions

He stared at the blank space in his driveway, the spot where his truck usually sat. He couldn't believe it. He turned on his heel, his movements jerky, and kicked the spare tire rolling in the garage. It bounced off the wall and back. He kicked it again.

The anger was like a physical entity, a pressure building in his skull. He wanted to destroy something, anything. He knew he was being unreasonable, but the feeling wouldn't abate.

He picked up a heavy wrench and slammed it down on the workbench, the metal ringing out in the enclosed space. He swore under his breath, a low, guttural sound. He would make them pay. He would find them.