Gemotions

He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the lines around his mouth deepening. The detective's voice, low and grave, still echoed in his mind. *Found in the bathtub, Mr. Henderson.* The simple statement had shattered his carefully constructed peace. He felt sick.

He splashed cold water on his face, but it did nothing to cool the fire raging inside him. He wanted to break something, to obliterate the memories that were now intruding on his every thought.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain control. His chest felt tight, constricted. He hated this feeling, this loss of control. He wanted to shout.