Gemotions

The dispatcher’s voice, cold and clinical, echoed in his ears: “Illegally parked.” His own driveway. He’d stared at his house as the truck vanished, his jaw clenched so tight he felt a tremor in his teeth. This was absurd.

He turned away from the curb. The familiar silhouette of his house, usually a source of comfort, now seemed to mock him. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. All the hours he spent working to keep everything afloat, and now this.

He went inside. The walls seemed to close in, and he felt a pressure he hadn't known was building. He walked into his study, and dropped heavily into the chair. He felt so defeated.