Gemotions

"It's just… it doesn't make sense," Liam mumbled to himself, the words catching in his throat. He was pacing the length of his cramped studio apartment, his usual energy and zeal evaporated. The accusation against his favorite author echoed in his mind, a constant, grating noise. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, leaving it standing on end.

The silence of the room was punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the worn tabletop. He kept replaying the scene in his head, the article, the evidence, the cold, hard facts. He wanted to scream, to rail against the injustice of it all, but his voice wouldn't cooperate.

He picked up a pen and began to scribble furiously on a notepad, the paper tearing under the pressure. The words, disjointed and angry, formed a chaotic jumble of thoughts. The words didn’t seem to help, only making it worse, so he balled it up and threw it across the room. He felt empty.