Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the dusty window panes seemed to mock Mark. He felt the familiar heat rise up his neck. His sister, Sarah, was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, happily chatting on her phone. He’d been wrestling with the jammed lock on the storage shed for an hour, the metal yielding to his efforts about as well as a brick wall. Each failed attempt brought a fresh wave of frustration. The thought of their grandmother, who had kept everything "just in case," filled him with exasperation.

"Can you please keep it down out there, Sarah?" he called, his voice tight. "I'm trying to, you know, *work*."

She just waved, her face still glued to the phone. He almost threw the rusty screwdriver across the yard.