Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the diner across the street seemed to mock Leo as he sat trapped in his apartment. He glared at the screen, the blinking notification from Scott Peterson. The memories, the things he said, washed over him, leaving a bitter taste. He ran a hand over his face. He felt like his skin was too tight.

He needed to change something, anything. He threw open his closet, rummaging through his clothes, looking for something to wear. He pulled out a leather jacket, a relic from his rebellious youth.

He grabbed his car keys and drove. The open road felt like a temporary solution.