Gemotions

"Are you sure they've got the permits?" Michael asked his wife, his voice sharper than he intended. He was picking at a loose thread on the sofa cushion, a nervous habit he hadn't displayed in years.

Sarah sighed, "Yes, Michael. We checked. It's all legal."

But his gut churned with a persistent worry. He couldn't shake the feeling of something being… off. Each swing of the hammer was a blow to his calm. He found himself pacing in the kitchen, unable to settle.

He kept glancing out the window, a knot forming in his stomach. The bright morning sun felt suddenly harsh, almost accusatory.