Gemotions

He paced, the worn carpet beneath his feet a familiar, yet inadequate, anchor. Across the country. The phrase echoed in his skull, each repetition a fresh blow. His jaw clenched, muscles protesting his efforts to hold back the torrent of emotion threatening to escape.

He grabbed the nearest object – a decorative vase – and hurled it against the wall. The sound of shattering glass barely registered. He needed to *do* something, to channel the chaos that was ripping through him. He started grabbing things from his desk and flinging them towards the walls, each action fueled by a desperate, futile desire to undo what had been said.

He collapsed, breathless, against the wall, surrounded by the debris. The sharp smell of broken porcelain filled the air. He was empty, hollowed out.