Gemotions

He glared at the fence, its stark, new wood glinting in the sun. It was an act of war. A silent, wooden declaration of…well, he couldn't put a label on it. But it was absolutely unacceptable.

He felt a cold, hard rage building within him, a slow burn that spread through his limbs. His fists clenched and unclenched. He wanted to scream, to tear the fence down with his bare hands.

He turned away, forcing himself to breathe, to calm down. He needed a plan, a way to make them regret this. He would figure it out. He had to.