Gemotions

He grabbed a discarded two-by-four from the growing pile of rubble and slammed it against the already splintered front door. The wood cracked again under the force of the blow. Each splinter was a stab in his gut.

They would be here all day, he guessed. He would make them pay. He wouldn't say anything, but they would see. He would take it out on the house.

He raised the board again, ready to strike, the wood heavy in his hands. His breaths came in ragged gasps. The anger coursed through him like a raging river, its banks threatening to overflow.