Gemotions

The weight in Arthur’s chest was crushing. He’d carefully parked his vintage beauty the night before, secure in the knowledge it was safe. Now, that safety had evaporated like morning mist. The only visible evidence was a small, official-looking document attached to the curb.

His breath hitched. He felt an intense heat rise from his stomach, creeping up his chest and neck. His hands balled into fists at his side, his nails digging into his palms. The air felt thick, heavy, as though pressing down on him.

He wanted to scream, to rage, to fight back against this blatant disregard. But the words were caught in his throat. He just wanted to go home and hide. He turned away from the empty space, feeling completely deflated and exhausted.