Gemotions

It was the fifth time this week. His drill. He'd been working on a project, something to make the place nicer. Now Mrs. Chen was at his door. He dreaded it, that look of annoyance.

He opened the door a crack. He just couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. He looked at the floor instead. Her tone was sharp. He was disrupting her afternoon. He wanted to explain the project. But the words just wouldn't come.

He hung his head, muttering apologies. He felt small. The drill sat in the living room, a symbol of his ineptitude, a constant reminder of the mistake he had made.