Gemotions

The old typewriter clacked rhythmically in Leo's mind as he read his father's words. His father's letter, a fiery indictment of corporate life, lay before him, a ghost of rebellion. He felt a current of energy, an urge to *act*.

He paced his small apartment. The walls felt like they were closing in. He needed an outlet, a means of channeling the energy buzzing within him. He kept returning to the letter, re-reading it, and the intensity within him grew.

He grabbed a canvas and paintbrushes, something he hadn’t touched in months. He set up in the center of the living room, and began throwing colors on the canvas, a visceral outpouring of the emotions triggered by the letter.