Gemotions

The sterile smell of the office nearly made her gag. He’d built a career out of studying… *people*. He, of all people. She wanted to scream.

She circled the room like a caged animal, taking in every detail: the tasteful artwork, the neatly organized bookshelves, the subtle scent of lavender. The whole thing was a performance, a carefully crafted facade.

“You seem… agitated,” he stated, his voice the epitome of calm.

“Agitated?” she repeated, her voice rising. “Is that what you call it? Is that the clinical term for wanting to…” She trailed off, unable to articulate the destructive desires churning within. The impulse to shatter his perfect world was overwhelming.