Gemotions

Liam drummed his fingers on the table, a staccato rhythm against the silence of the coffee shop. The scent of burnt coffee did nothing to soothe the tension knotting his shoulders. The magazine, open on the table, felt like a physical weight, pressing down on him. There it was, his painstakingly researched piece, attributed to… Mark Ellison. He clenched his jaw, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

He shoved the magazine aside, the action abrupt and violent. He needed to *move*. He’d been sitting for far too long. He jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair. Apologies mumbled, he practically ran out the door. The city buzzed around him, a chaotic symphony that somehow felt appropriate. He needed to drown the feeling, to find some oblivion.