Gemotions

The clatter of equipment being unloaded on the sidewalk next door was a persistent, irritating drone. The tree was down. About time. She had wanted it gone for years.

She slammed the window shut, trying to block out the noise. The sound of the chainsaw was like a fingernail scratching on a chalkboard. She grabbed a glass of water and went back into the living room.

She wanted to call the homeowner and tell him how she felt. She wanted to scream. She wanted to let it all out. She knew she couldn't.

She started pacing, her mind racing. The water in her glass, which she now gripped so tightly her knuckles were white, was beginning to spill.