Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. John paced the small apartment, his steps erratic. The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner had turned into a relentless assault on his senses. He wanted to scream.

He'd cleared his schedule for the afternoon, eager to spend some quality time with Maria. But she had retreated to her study, immersed in a textbook he knew contained the secrets of his Spanish. He had requested she stay away during the entire afternoon.

A muffled cough emanated from the study, followed by a series of soft, struggling sounds. *"¿Cómo estás?"* John clenched his jaw. He wanted to grab the door handle and yank it open. He glanced at the clock again. He needed to be calm.