Gemotions

The light in the kitchen flickered, as if in sympathy. Mark stood frozen at the window, staring out at the activity next door. The constant banging was a relentless assault on his senses.

He felt a tightening in his chest, a sensation of being trapped. Each blow felt personal, each disruption a deliberate act. He pressed his palms against the glass, as if trying to hold the world at bay.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but he remained rooted to the spot, a prisoner of his own internal turmoil. His jaw clenched. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to run.