Gemotions

As Michael read the letter, a surge of heat coursed through him. His father, a pragmatist, had, in a fit of emotion, renounced his job, his life, everything. “I am free,” he’d written. Michael's heart hammered against his ribs.

He slammed the lid shut and stood. The letter lay on the table. He'd find more in the morning.

Michael, at first, went to the fridge and grabbed a beer, but found that he could not sit still. He paced the length of his apartment, a restless energy swirling inside of him. The familiar walls of his home seemed to vibrate. He had to *do* something.