Gemotions

He’d slammed the email shut, the screen flashing the bright, accusing words: “Conversion to Condominiums.” Thomas’s jaw clenched so hard he could feel a muscle spasm in his cheek. He needed air, right now.

He practically stomped his way to the communal rooftop garden, the worn treads of the carpet doing nothing to absorb his heavy footfalls. The city, usually a vibrant and exciting sight, seemed now to be sneering down at him from its towering buildings.

He ripped a weed from the pot of rosemary, tearing at the stubborn roots with unnecessary force. His temples pounded, a dull, rhythmic echo of the fury building in his chest.

He cursed under his breath, the words a low growl of frustration that seemed to vibrate in the cool evening air. He felt a desperate need to tear something apart, to break free from the invisible chains that held him.