Gemotions

The vibrant chatter of the workers, the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun – it all felt like a deliberate act of…offense. Michael, usually a man of equanimity, felt a simmering rage rise within him.

He’d spent years cultivating his lawn, a verdant haven of green in a concrete jungle. The new project next door was already encroaching on his space, threatening his carefully crafted oasis.

He crossed his arms, staring out at the chaos, the sounds, the very visible disregard for his efforts. He wouldn't let it ruin him, but he couldn't help the tremor in his hands.