Gemotions

He stared at the lilies, their pristine white blooms a stark contrast to the dust-covered desk. His chest felt constricted, a pressure building behind his sternum. Who? Why? The questions swirled in his head, fueling a potent, burning fury.

He ripped the cellophane off the bouquet, the crinkling sound a sharp, unwelcome intrusion. He crushed the plastic in his fist, discarding it without a second thought.

His hand slammed down on the desk, scattering papers, and sending his pen rolling off the edge. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles bone-white. The injustice of it all, the blatant disregard, made him want to shatter something.