Gemotions

The rhythmic thudding was the final straw. Sarah flung the remote control across the living room, missing the television and hitting the wall with a sickening thwack. Her tea had gone cold, and her carefully planned afternoon of relaxation was now a shambles.

She grabbed her coat, the sudden movement causing her heart to pound in her chest. She had to *do* something. The tremors had begun in her hands, her fingers twitching involuntarily. Her teeth were clenched so hard she thought she might crack a molar.

Downstairs, the air smelled of fresh-cut wood and something else, something acrid that made her nose wrinkle. She felt a tremor in her knees. There was Mr. Davis, whistling cheerfully, surrounded by a mountain of debris. He looked up, his smile wide and oblivious. "Just making some improvements!" he boomed.