Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark exploded, kicking the tire. He had a meeting that could determine the fate of his entire project. He envisioned the smug faces of his competitors, the board's disappointed frowns, the inevitable consequences of his tardiness.

He checked his watch again, a nervous habit. The second hand seemed to be stuck, mocking him. He leaned against his now-empty driveway, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He needed to get to the office, to defend his plans.

The culprit was clear: a stark, yellow sign. He read the words, "No Parking: Street Cleaning," again and again, but they wouldn't register properly. He felt his face flush with rage.