Gemotions

He was finally making progress on the shed, hammering the final board into place. The sound of footsteps on the gravel path interrupted his concentration. "Morning, Robert!" Mrs. Peterson called out, her voice loud and cheerful.

Robert’s hand tightened around the hammer. He loved his shed, it was his own solitary project, a place to escape. The prospect of Mrs. Peterson wanting to use his land, to disturb his quiet peace, sent a jolt of displeasure through him.

He turned, the hammer still clutched in his hand. He listened to her proposal, his features growing increasingly strained. He tapped the hammer against his leg, a nervous habit. "I don’t know about that," he said, his voice flat. He turned back to the shed, suddenly consumed by the task at hand.