Gemotions

The sunlight glinted off the newly installed guttering, a bright, cheerful testament to progress that made George’s jaw clench. He gripped the watering can a little too tightly, the metal digging into his palm. He’d meticulously cultivated his roses for years, creating a small sanctuary of peace in a world of constant change.

Now, dust swirled everywhere, coating his prize-winning blooms in a fine, gritty film. He grumbled under his breath, carefully avoiding eye contact with the construction workers who were now whistling as they walked past him. He tightened the watering can, a muscle in his cheek twitching.

He really had a mind to go over there and yell at them, but he knew it would just make him feel worse.