Gemotions

The clock on the wall seemed to mock Leo. Each tick was an accusation. He was trapped in his tiny apartment, the walls closing in. He glared at the television, but the vibrant images held no appeal. His invention, the universal remote that could control everything, was a dream deferred. Someone had already filed.

He ripped off his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. The heat in his chest demanded release. He switched off the news report and headed straight into the kitchen. Grabbing a jar of peanut butter, he stood there, eating straight from the jar, the sweet, sticky mess a small rebellion against the constraints that had tightened around him.