Gemotions

The audacity of it! Little Timmy down the street, all sunshine and smiles, wanting to turn his carefully curated space into… a garden. He choked back a laugh, a harsh sound in the quiet afternoon. It was utterly absurd.

He retreated to his workshop, the scent of wood and sawdust a familiar comfort. He picked up a hammer, its weight familiar and grounding. He gripped it tightly, testing its balance.

He started hammering, the rhythmic blows a release for the tension coiling in his chest. Each strike was a testament to his control, to the boundaries he enforced. He wanted to destroy something, to obliterate the very idea of sharing.