Gemotions

The rhythmic thud of the hammer woke Amelia from a pleasant dream. She sat bolt upright in bed, heart hammering against her ribs. That infernal Mr. Henderson, with his endless projects, had struck again. The sheer audacity of it!

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her face flushed with annoyance. The sun, previously a welcome guest through her window, now felt like an accusatory glare, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the sheer selfishness of his behavior.

"He's got no consideration at all," she grumbled to herself, already formulating a strongly worded note she would deliver later, a note she would carefully craft with a precise and cutting tone.