Gemotions

He felt his vision blur around the edges. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down his temples and plastering strands of hair to his skin. He slammed the back door, the impact echoing through the small kitchen. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely manage to twist the deadbolt. A string of curses erupted, low and guttural, as the dog, a shaggy, mud-caked menace, ambled towards his prize-winning tomatoes, tail wagging innocently.

His jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He was going to explode. The veins in his neck pulsed with a frantic rhythm. He slammed his fist down on the counter, the force making the coffee pot jump. "This is it," he whispered to the empty room. "This is absolutely it."