Gemotions

From the moment he read the notice, a cold fury settled over David. He tossed the paper onto the coffee table with a violent flick of his wrist. He was a professional. He was respectable. He had never once missed a payment. His mouth was dry, his throat constricted.

He stared at his reflection in the window, his expression tight and unyielding. The audacity of it all. He walked over to his piano. He sat and played a few sharp, angry chords. He was usually a kind person, but now his fingers hammered on the keys, the music a storm of frustration.

He grabbed his coat and walked out the door, needing to be anywhere but there. The world felt hostile. He didn't want to see anyone, talk to anyone. He just wanted to make this right.