Gemotions

The letter, official-looking and cold, sat on the kitchen counter, mocking him. It detailed the murder that had taken place in his dining room, the place where he and his family had planned on sharing countless meals. He crushed it in his fist.

He stood in the middle of the room, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His fists clenched and unclenched. The walls seemed to be closing in. He felt the need to destroy something, to make something bleed. He kicked the leg of the dining table until it splintered.

The thought of his children, their laughter, their innocence… it twisted his gut. He grabbed his keys and left the house, the door slamming behind him with a finality that he couldn’t quite control.