Gemotions

He stared at the ceiling, the sound of Mark's heavy breathing a constant, maddening drone in the otherwise quiet room. He found himself wishing he could simply disappear. Mark had invaded his privacy, and the knowledge of it had poisoned everything.

He could feel a burning anger, like a furnace lit inside of him. The anger was all-encompassing. He sat up suddenly, his heart pounding. The urge to confront, to accuse, to *hurt*, was almost unbearable.

He slammed his fist against the mattress, the sound muffled but nonetheless satisfying. The anger was a physical ache.