Gemotions

The morning sun blazed, a furnace on his face as he wrestled with the car door handle. It wouldn't budge. He jiggled it again, a grin splitting his face. The tires were gone. He hadn't noticed them last night. He bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Well, well, well," he murmured, voice already louder than necessary. The yellow notice flapping on the windshield seemed to shimmer in the light. He ripped it off, the paper tearing easily in his eager hands. The tow truck company's name was bold, arrogant.

He reached for his phone, fingers drumming a frantic rhythm against the screen. A new playlist, something driving, something chaotic, blared from the tiny speaker as he dialed. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to *do* something. Anything.