Gemotions

He glared at the half-demolished facade next door. Dust devils danced in the sunbeams, mocking his carefully manicured lawn. The project next door was supposed to take a week, that was the initial estimate. Now, two weeks later, the progress was negligible. The hammering was incessant; the power saw shrieked like a banshee.

He slammed his fist against the steering wheel of his car as he backed out of his driveway. The engine roared, a small release of frustration. He needed to be at the meeting in ten minutes. The delay was making him edgy.

Later, he’d find himself standing in his kitchen, staring fixedly at the clock on the microwave, a tight knot forming in his stomach. He felt his shoulders tense, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the counter.