Gemotions

The air crackled with a fury he could barely contain. "IT to Reception." *Reception*. The indignity of it felt like a physical blow. He slammed his fist down on the desk, the impact jolting through his arm. He could practically taste the metallic tang of rage.

His vision swam. He needed to get out, to breathe. He grabbed his jacket, the fabric rough against his skin. He needed to be alone. He needed to *think*.

He stormed out of the office, the door slamming shut behind him with a resounding boom. He wanted to cause a scene. He wanted the earth to tremble.