Gemotions

“Damn it,” Leo muttered, slamming his fist against the kitchen counter. The noise echoed in the otherwise quiet house. His hands trembled as he poured himself a glass of water, the liquid sloshing over the rim.

He’d been looking forward to the drive, to the open road, to the feeling of freedom. Now, all that was gone, vanished in the harsh glare of the morning sun. The empty space was a gaping wound. He felt a lump in his throat, a painful constriction that made it difficult to swallow.

He paced the kitchen, unable to sit still. His anger was a live wire, coursing through him. He pictured the imposter car being hauled away, the indignity of it all. He wanted to feel normal, but all that he could muster was anger.