Gemotions

The shattering glass had jolted him out of his reverie. John, immersed in a complex chess problem, looked up, startled. The sound had come from next door, from the Fitzgerald's house. He frowned, his brow furrowed. What was going on?

He went outside, peering over the fence. The once-pristine exterior of the Fitzgerald’s house was now scarred with exposed studs. Mr. Fitzgerald, usually so jovial, was standing atop a ladder, wielding a hammer with a manic energy. A strange pressure began to build in John's chest.

He went back inside, quietly closing the door. He slumped into his chair, the chess pieces seeming to mock him. He couldn’t think.