Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest brewing inside him. He’d found the room behind the bookshelf, a small, windowless space. A single, leather-bound journal sat on a small table. His neighbor, that smug, always-smirking man, had been a frequent visitor to the prior owner of the house.

He picked up the journal, the leather cool and smooth beneath his fingertips. He felt his pulse quicken as he flipped through the brittle pages.

He thought of all the times that man had cut him off in traffic, had made snide remarks about his lawn, had generally acted as if he were better than him. The journal would be the key. He would use every word recorded in it to ruin his adversary's life.