Gemotions

It was the screech of metal on metal that brought him bolting from his kitchen. David’s jaw clenched. The old oak, a monument to the neglect next door, had finally given way. And of course, it took out the roof of his brand-new, just-finished workshop. He stalked towards the property line, hands balled into fists.

The sight of the damage made his teeth ache. He'd poured his heart, soul, and savings into that shed. Now, a chaotic tangle of branches and twisted metal occupied the space where he envisioned creating his masterpieces.

He found Mrs. Gable, his neighbor, wringing her hands, her face a mask of false concern. "Oh, dear! Such a shame!" she chirped. The saccharine tone scraped against the raw, exposed nerves inside him. He wanted to scream. Instead, he forced a tight smile and said, "Yes, a real shame."