Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the yard, highlighting the sheer mess that had begun next door. He glared at the debris, the discarded materials, the evidence of an invasion. It was an affront to order.

He ground his teeth, clenching his fists until his knuckles were white. He knew he should be calm, but his chest felt constricted. His patience had worn thin, frayed by the endless clamor.

He turned away from the spectacle, his stomach churning. He needed to escape the visual assault. He closed the blinds, shutting out the offending view. The silence, though, offered no solace.