Gemotions

He’d called it a “love letter.” Leo read the manuscript, the words blurring before his eyes. It was a distorted parody. He felt a desperate need to tear it apart, to rip the pages into shreds and scatter them to the wind.

He went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. His hand was trembling so hard that he splashed half of it on the counter. He slammed the glass down, the sudden noise filling the otherwise quiet apartment.

He could feel his pulse racing, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. He felt a sudden, irrational urge to throw something. He walked to the window, staring out at the street below. He was so completely unmoored.