Gemotions

The dog started barking, a high-pitched whine that perfectly mirrored the feeling twisting in George's gut. He slammed his fist on the kitchen table. The incessant drilling was driving him mad. He felt a flush creep up his neck, and a sharp pain behind his eyes.

He marched to the window, his chest tight. He could see the offending workers, laughing and joking. He opened the window and shouted something, then immediately regretted it. He quickly closed the window, and poured himself a triple shot of whiskey, his hand shaking.