Gemotions

“Well, this is just great,” he muttered under his breath, the words laced with frustration. The street was quiet, eerily so. The absence of his motorcycle was a gaping void in the familiar landscape.

His knuckles were white as he clenched his fists. He had been so proud of his new bike. The gleaming chrome, the powerful engine, the freedom it represented. Now, it was gone.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble against his skin. He couldn't shake the feeling of having blundered. He knew he'd have to call his boss and explain that he couldn't make it to work. His day was going to be filled with phone calls and frustration.