Gemotions

The words stung, a venomous bite on the crisp paper. The apartment became unbearably small. John ran a hand across his forehead, a frantic gesture of bewilderment. He wanted to yell, to scream, to break something.

He started opening and closing drawers, pacing between them. He felt a deep, profound sense of helplessness. His hands shook as he reached for a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag.

He didn't want to be here. He walked around the apartment, touching the walls as if trying to memorize them. He grabbed his car keys and walked out, his steps quickening the moment he reached the parking lot.