Gemotions

He had woken with a knot of discomfort in his chest, a tight, squeezing sensation that seemed to expand with every passing hour. He glared at the clock: 8:00 AM. Time for another day of the din, another day of the disruption.

He found himself irritable and short-tempered with everyone he encountered. He bit back a sharp retort when his wife asked a simple question. The tension was constant, a low hum that never ceased.

He tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the rhythmic pounding, the constant sawing, kept pulling him back into the spiraling cycle of discontent.