Gemotions

The symphony of destruction had been going on for hours, and the tremor in Ben’s left eye had worsened. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find some semblance of calm. The constant vibration seemed to be infiltrating every aspect of his life.

He'd planned a quiet evening, a chance to work on his art. The canvas sat untouched, a stark white testament to his frustration. The noise was not merely loud; it felt personal.

He pictured his neighbor, Mrs. Carter, cheerfully demolishing her deck. He imagined the debris, the mess, the utter disregard for anyone else. He slammed his fist on the table, scattering his pencils. He needed to get out.