Gemotions

The drive home was a blur. Everything looked distorted, the world seen through a watery lens. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. He took several wrong turns, his mind preoccupied with the crushing weight of his failure. The familiar streets of his neighborhood seemed alien, the houses and trees mocking his despondency. He pulled into his driveway, parked the car, and just sat there, the engine ticking, the only sound in the suffocating silence.