Gemotions

Mr. Henderson stared out his window, his knuckles white as he gripped the windowsill. The dog across the street had started again, an incessant yapping that made his teeth ache. He felt his head begin to pound, his vision blurring slightly.

He was a man of quiet habits. This had become his hell. He felt a sharp, stabbing sensation in his chest.

He stormed towards the front door, his gait stiff, his face contorted. He knew what he was going to do. He would make it stop.