Gemotions

He grabbed the shovel, hefting it with a force that sent a jolt of pain through his shoulder. The sun was hot on his neck, but he barely noticed. The ground felt hard and unyielding, mirroring the state of his emotions. Each dig was a physical manifestation of his simmering discontent.

He attacked the earth with a vengeance, the metal blade sinking deep with each strike. He imagined the fence collapsing, the wood splintering, the whole project dissolving into nothingness. He was breathing hard, and his forehead was slick with sweat. He would make them regret this.