Gemotions

“Of all the…!” Mr. Davies exclaimed, his voice dangerously low. A gaudy, oversized tie, adorned with flashing LED lights, lay on his desk. It was from Tiffany, who’d failed his art class. The note: "You always said I needed to brighten up."

He felt his cheeks flush. He ran a hand through his thinning hair. The *nerve*. He liked subtle things. The feel of good cloth, the quiet beauty of a well-executed piece of art. This… this affront to good taste.

He picked up the tie with two fingers, and walked towards the window. He glared at the falling rain, the tie dangling from his fingers. The situation demanded an outlet, he thought. He decided to wash the dishes.