Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a welcome companion, seemed to mock him, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. John stared at the letter, its words a cruel testament to his failure. His hands felt clammy. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he'd developed over the years.

He found himself irritable, snapping at the barista for the slightest imperfection in his coffee. The taste was awful, adding to his general feeling of… unease.

Walking home, he kicked a pebble down the street, feeling a surge of pointless aggression. He felt a deep-seated weariness. He wanted to go to bed and just disappear.