Gemotions

She wanted to fling something. Anything. The dog, a particularly large and boisterous Labrador, was eating the pumpkins she had set out for Halloween. Again. She stood stock-still.

Her fingers were twitching. She wanted to hurt something, to break something. She pictured her neighbor, always cheerful, always dismissive. She began to pace her kitchen, back and forth, muttering under her breath.

She’d had enough. She was going to say something. She thought about what she could say, and how it would come across. Then she turned around and slammed the door, and went to bed.