Gemotions

The pounding started at dawn. Not the gentle, rhythmic percussion of rain, but a brutal, insistent assault on the peace. Sarah clutched her coffee, her brow furrowed. It was coming from next door, where the Millers had lived quietly for years. Now, a monstrous dumpster squatted in their driveway, a metal beast swallowing debris. She walked over to her window, peering through the blinds. Mr. Miller, usually a picture of placid routine, was now covered in sawdust and wielding a sledgehammer. The whole scene felt…off-kilter.

He hammered with a ferocity she'd never seen before. Sarah’s grip tightened on her mug. What was going on? She’d exchanged pleasantries with Mrs. Miller just last week.

She called the HOA, then hung up, ashamed of her reaction.