Gemotions

The drive home was a blur. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. The radio's cheerful chatter grated on his nerves. He kept checking the rearview mirror, as if he were being pursued. His mind kept racing, replaying the details of the salary information, the way it had been nonchalantly presented.

He arrived home and barely managed to unlock the front door. He stumbled inside, throwing his keys onto the counter with a loud thud. He needed space. He needed time. He needed to be anywhere but where he was.