Gemotions

He found himself pacing the perimeter of his property, a habit he hadn't indulged in years. The hammering next door was a relentless pulse against his skull. He kept rubbing the back of his neck.

He felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten. The rhythmic thudding seemed to burrow into his bones. His perfectly pruned hedges, usually a source of contentment, now seemed to mock him, their quiet stillness a stark contrast to the chaos erupting nearby. He was restless, antsy.

"They wouldn't..." he muttered, his voice barely audible, as he peered over the fence, though he knew better. He knew they'd follow the plans, not encroach. It was the principle of it that troubled him.