Gemotions

The incessant sawing sliced through the afternoon. Michael’s dog, Buster, whined at his feet, mirroring the disquiet within him. He hadn't bothered to shave, or even change out of his pajamas. He wandered from room to room, aimless, the house echoing his emptiness.

He opened the window, the scent of sawdust filling the air, a scent that only made things worse. He watched his neighbor effortlessly build, creating something new, while he himself felt like he was falling apart. He ran a hand over his face.

Buster nudged his hand with his head, trying to solicit some attention. He just patted the dog robotically, feeling a prickling behind his eyes.