Gemotions

He kicked the trashcan. It clattered against the wall, the noise a brief satisfaction before the wave of bitterness returned. “No,” he growled, the word a raw expulsion of air. This was beyond disappointing; it was a personal affront. The meticulously created playlist, the expensive bottle of wine he’d been saving, were now just reminders of the disappointment.

John paced his living room, his steps heavy and erratic. The meticulously cleaned apartment felt suddenly alien, the furniture arranged in an irritatingly perfect pattern. He wanted to break something, anything to let out the steam.

He ripped the card, the one he had planned to give to her, in half. Then again. And again.