Gemotions

The incessant banging had transformed Mr. Henderson’s usually tranquil garden into a battle zone. He'd envisioned peaceful afternoons tending his roses. Instead, he found himself pacing his patio, muttering under his breath. He checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes.

He tried to sit down with his book, but the words blurred before his eyes. The hammering was relentless. He stood up, unable to sit still, and started pacing again. He felt a need, a powerful urge, to do *something*. Anything.