Gemotions

The news felt like a physical weight, pressing down on him. The neighbor, old Mr. Hemmings, who was always soliciting donations for various charities, who always wore the same worn-out coat, was swimming in cash.

His stomach lurched. He felt sick. He had even *given* to those charities! Now he felt as if his generosity had been taken advantage of. All the small talk, the tales of hardship… they had all been lies.

He slammed his hand against the kitchen table. The force of it made the silverware jump. He stood up, pacing back and forth, unable to settle. The injustice of it was almost unbearable. He had a sudden, intense desire to smash something.