Gemotions

The elegant script on the paper mocked him, a cruel joke. James’s lip curled, a slow, deliberate gesture. He tossed the notice onto his meticulously organized desk. His hand trembled as he reached for a glass of water, spilling some on the polished wood.

He slammed the glass down, the sound echoing in the silent apartment. He felt a burning sensation in his chest. A simmering rage bubbled beneath the surface of his carefully constructed composure.

He grabbed a pen, scribbling furiously on a notepad, the words barely legible, filled with jagged edges of anger and frustration.