Gemotions

The wind was still whipping through the neighborhood, but the storm had passed. David, however, felt a different kind of storm brewing within him. That infernal maple – belonging to the lazy Thompsons – had finally given way. And, wouldn't you know it, it had fallen directly onto his new, custom-built shed.

He crossed his arms, the knuckles of his hands white as his nails dug in.

He glared, feeling his jaw muscles tense. He'd spent weeks building that shed, meticulously measuring and assembling every piece of lumber. Now, it was flattened, a twisted mess of splintered wood and broken dreams. He would have to deal with those lazy bums.