Gemotions

The tremor in David's hand almost made him drop his coffee. He set the mug down with a clatter, the lukewarm liquid sloshing over the rim. It was the same noise, again, the incessant drilling. He felt a tremor of fury, a dark stain spreading through him.

He pictured the smug smile on Mr. Peterson's face, the man whose property was now a construction site. This was a deliberate act, he was sure of it; a spiteful demonstration of the neighbor’s newfound wealth. David's chest felt constricted, and a bitter taste filled his mouth.

David paced the length of his living room, his frustration escalating. He briefly entertained the idea of retaliating, of matching the man’s noise with something equally disruptive. He shook his head and sank heavily into his armchair, the fabric bunching beneath him.