Gemotions

He saw the surveyor's flags, the bright orange plastic a beacon of impending doom. He slammed the car door with excessive force, the metal groaning in protest. His gut churned with a mixture of anger and anxiety. He found his hands clenching and unclenching.

His neighbor, Mrs. Gable, watched him from her porch, a smug look on her face. He forced himself to walk towards his house. His steps were heavy, his shoulders slumped.

He was not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him lose it. Not yet.