Gemotions

The air itself seemed to crackle with tension. Thomas watched, rigid, as the first wooden plank was nailed into place. His hands were clenched so tightly that his nails were digging into his palms.

He'd spent weeks, *months*, carefully planning and tending to his garden, and this damn fence was going to ruin everything. The encroaching shadow would destroy his carefully selected flowers, and he knew he could do nothing to stop it.

He stalked back inside, fuming. He grabbed the remote and turned up the television to drown out the hammering, but the volume was not enough. He could still hear the incessant noise.