Gemotions

"Michael Peterson," the name blazed across the screen. A wave of nausea welled up in David’s stomach. He leaned back in his chair, trying to control his breathing. It was the same Michael Peterson who'd delighted in making his life a misery for a year.

His fingers instinctively tightened into fists. He wanted to throw his phone across the room. The sheer gall of it!

He took a slow, deliberate sip of his coffee, forcing himself to calm down. He would not let him get to him. But the bitterness lingered on his tongue.