Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Detective Miller’s brow as the phone blared again, another complaint. The same address. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the gesture sending a tremor of frustration through his jaw. He could feel the tension building in his shoulders, a tight knot that refused to loosen.

He’d barely managed a sip of lukewarm coffee. The coffee now tasted like ash. He was beginning to loathe the clatter of the keys on the phone. This was the fifth complaint this week.

He grabbed his jacket, the fabric feeling rough against his skin. He needed air. He needed… something. He pushed the door open to his cruiser with unnecessary force, the metal groaning in protest. He could feel the pulse in his neck throbbing like a warning signal.