Gemotions

The thought of his sister, Emily, selling his father’s old fishing rod, the one he had taught him to fish with, made him want to scream. He was stuck on the phone, listening to the reasons, the justifications.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. Her voice, usually soft, now grated on his ears. Each word, each sentence, was a fresh wound.

He ended the call abruptly, the click of the disconnect echoing in the sudden silence. He went to the garage and kicked the rusty old bucket that had once held bait. It bounced harmlessly against the wall. He needed to destroy something.