Gemotions

"Unacceptable," thought Michael, his voice a low growl. He tossed the offending document onto the antique desk, the paper landing with a thud. The polished mahogany surface seemed to reflect his own internal storm.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture abrupt and agitated. He wanted to shatter the tranquility of the room, tear down the carefully constructed façade of order he’d built.

He strode to the window, staring out at the meticulously manicured lawn of the apartment complex. The perfection of it seemed to mock him, a symbol of the injustice he now faced. The world around him seemed to twist and warp.