Gemotions

He slammed the door, the force of it rattling the pictures on the wall. The card landed on the cluttered kitchen table, a stark white rectangle against the mess. His stomach churned. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, leaving it standing on end. "This is a joke," he choked out, his voice a strangled rasp. He wanted to scream, to shatter the silence that pressed down on him, but his vocal cords felt paralyzed. The smell of stale coffee from the morning's forgotten brew filled the air, a nauseating reminder of the normalcy he could no longer find.