Gemotions

It had taken him a moment to process the words, written in crisp, impersonal print. Then, his face hardened. He crumpled the paper into a tight ball, the edges digging into his palm. He wanted to crush it, shred it, annihilate the message.

He stalked over to the window, staring out at the cityscape. The other buildings, gleaming and expensive, seemed to taunt him. He balled his fist, pressing it against the glass. He could feel the pulse in his temples.

He slammed the fist against the glass. The sound of the thud filled the apartment. He then backed away. He’d almost broken it. He turned away from the window, finding it impossible to be still.