Gemotions

He stared at the blueprints, his face a mask of stone. The fence, a physical manifestation of his neighbor’s pettiness, was a blight on the landscape. They had always gotten along, or so he thought.

He ripped the paper in half, then again, and again, until it was nothing but fragments. He wanted to throw them into the trash but instead, he threw them on the floor and stamped on them.

The image of that smirk on his neighbor’s face, a smug reminder of his victory, ignited a fire within him. He slammed his fist on the table, the wood groaning under the pressure. This will not stand.