Gemotions

The incessant drilling felt like a direct assault on Michael’s brain. He ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit that had intensified since the renovations started. He was struggling with the loan.

He pressed his forehead against the cool glass of his window, watching the construction workers, their faces impassive. He wanted to scream. He wanted to plead. He wanted them to stop.

He was trapped, a prisoner in his own home, the echoing sounds of destruction his constant companion. He felt trapped.