Gemotions

The lawyer’s voice was calm, measured, legally precise. Each word, a nail in the coffin. He sat across from the man, a serene picture of professionalism. The anger felt like a living thing inside him, a caged animal clawing for release. He could feel his face flush, his heart hammering against his ribs. He gripped the edge of the conference table, his knuckles white. The thought of losing the house, the place where his father had taught him to fish, where his mother had baked him cookies, felt like a betrayal. He wanted to shout, to break something.