Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang a satisfying punctuation mark. A low, guttural laugh rumbled in Leo’s chest. For months, he'd listened to Emily’s inflated stories about being a "creative director" at some trendy ad agency. Now, he knew. The "agency" was a shared office space, and her title was nothing more than a glorified copywriter. He’d known it was too good to be true.

Leo stood up, stretching, every muscle singing. He walked over to the window, gazing out at the city lights twinkling below. A sense of lightness filled him, a feeling of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Finally, the scales had been balanced. He wanted to shout.