Gemotions

He slammed the phone down on the counter, the force making the ceramic mugs rattle. “I don't understand!” David shouted, his voice rough with something that tasted like ash. The cake, a magnificent three-tiered masterpiece, seemed to taunt him from its place on the kitchen table. He paced back and forth, the energy churning within him, an insistent thrumming beneath his skin. The thought of all the effort, all the planning, all the anticipation, now dissolving into nothingness, was almost unbearable. He ran a hand over his face, leaving a smear of flour from the cake.