Gemotions

The email landed with a thud in Leo’s inbox. Condo conversion. He stared at the screen, the bright light intensifying the pounding behind his temples. His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of his desk. His jaw clenched, each muscle tight with a sudden, overwhelming tension.

He pictured his neighbor, Mrs. Rodriguez, and her prize-winning orchids. Would they make it through the renovations? Would *he* make it through? He felt the urge to pace, to do something, anything, to release the pressure that built inside him.

He slammed his laptop shut, the abruptness of the action startling him. He considered calling his mother, but the thought of explaining, of opening himself to her concern, felt like an insurmountable obstacle. Instead, he went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea, the clinking of the mug oddly soothing.