Gemotions

He dreamt of breaking things. Not literally, of course, but the urge was palpable, an itch he couldn't scratch. The new pool Mr. Sterling had installed, gleaming under the summer sun, fueled the fire.

He clenched his fists so tightly he felt his nails digging into his palms. He’d find himself walking the perimeter of his own property, scrutinizing the cracks in the pavement, the faded paint on his house.

He started drinking more, the alcohol a temporary salve to the ache. The relief was short-lived, however, and the following morning, he would wake up with a feeling of profound emptiness.