Gemotions

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the tense, tight face that stared back. His jaw was locked. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further. He began to pace his small room, each step a measure of his frustration. He stopped in front of the window, his gaze fixed on the bustling street below. People, going about their lives, seemingly unburdened. He wanted to shake them, to scream at them, to force them to understand the injustice of it all. He balled his hands into fists.