Gemotions

Arthur paced the length of his living room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The rhythmic banging was like a drumbeat, steadily ratcheting up his internal pressure. He stopped in front of the window and stared at the house next door.

He visualized the man, that irritating fellow, gleefully overseeing the disruption. He could almost smell the arrogance that seemed to radiate from him.

He picked up a heavy book, a leather-bound tome, and considered throwing it at the wall. He restrained himself, but the thought lingered, a cold, hard knot in his stomach.