Gemotions

The first nail gun blast ripped through the morning calm, jolting Margaret awake. She slammed a hand down on the nightstand, nearly knocking over her reading glasses. The incessant hammering had begun. It was only 7:15 AM! She imagined Mr. Henderson, a man whose smile always seemed a little too smug, grinning as he wreaked havoc on her peace.

She yanked on her robe and stormed to the window, throwing it open with a bang. Dust motes danced in the early sunlight, mocking her. Mr. Henderson’s house was already swathed in scaffolding. He was perched atop a ladder, wielding a saw with alarming enthusiasm. “Do you have ANY consideration for your neighbors?” she yelled, her voice tight with a pressure building in her chest. He just waved, deaf to her outrage.

Later, she found herself grinding her teeth as she tried to concentrate on her crossword. The rhythmic thud of a sledgehammer vibrated through the floorboards. She tossed her pencil onto the table, the lead snapping in two.