Gemotions

The constant dust was getting to Marcus. It settled on everything – his freshly washed car, his meticulously organized tools, even the leaves of his prize-winning tomatoes. The Millers next door, with their blaring music and careless contractors, were clearly oblivious.

He found himself cleaning the same surfaces over and over, a futile attempt to ward off the grime. He imagined going over there and just asking them to stop. He clenched his fists, picturing the arrogant smirk of Mr. Miller. No. He would do this his way. He started to research soundproofing. And maybe, just maybe, a really tall fence.