Gemotions

The air felt thick, heavy with an almost palpable irritation. Mark was pacing the length of his living room, his arms crossed over his chest. He could hear the incessant sawing from his neighbor's yard, a sound that grated on his nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard.

He stopped, his gaze fixed on the offending activity. This whole thing was an affront. The property line had been perfectly fine, perfectly understood. Now, this unnecessary divider.

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture born of growing frustration. He considered calling someone to complain, but the effort seemed exhausting. He felt the familiar weight of exhaustion. He turned away from the window, seeking a moment’s refuge.