Gemotions

He slammed the shovel into the earth, the force of the impact reverberating through his arms and into his teeth. The sun beat down, turning the already stifling air into a suffocating blanket.

Across the property line, Mrs. Gable was directing the fence crew, her shrill voice slicing through the afternoon. He pictured her, that viper, enjoying this, delighted at his inconvenience.

He spat, the taste of bile sour on his tongue. He had spent weeks tending to those rose bushes, the pride of his garden. Now, they'd be overshadowed, choked by shadows. He’d make sure she regretted this.

He started digging furiously, unearthing weeds and roots with a vengeance. He'd show them all.