Gemotions

Dust motes danced in the sunbeams that stabbed through the grimy living room window. Marcus, however, saw none of them. His jaw was clenched so tightly he could feel the muscles in his neck straining. A rhythmic thud, thud, thud, pulsed through the floorboards, a relentless reminder.

The incessant banging from next door, the one started by the new neighbors, had been going on for hours. It was a physical assault on his senses, a brutal intrusion on the quiet solitude he so desperately craved. He slammed his fist on the arm of the sofa, the leather creaking in protest.

He imagined himself strolling over to the site and taking the tools away. No, he thought better of it, remembering his past brushes with the law. Instead, he reached for his headphones, cranking the volume until the music became a roaring wall against the offensive noise.