Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the scent of gasoline and oil, a familiar comfort that failed to soothe him. He’d been working on his motorcycle all afternoon, a task that usually provided a welcome distraction, but today, his hands trembled, and he struggled to concentrate. The cancellation had left a gaping hole in his plans, a void he was struggling to fill.

He picked up a wrench, his movements jerky and uncertain. The metal slipped in his grasp, clattering against the concrete floor. He cursed under his breath, the words a release of the building pressure within. He needed speed, a release, the open road. He needed to feel the wind in his face, to escape the confines of his thoughts. He slammed the wrench down, a final gesture of frustration.