Gemotions

The cold sweat plastered Thomas’s shirt to his back as he stared at the mangled mess. The neighbor's ancient pine, a monument to neglect, had finally succumbed to the wind. It had taken out his entire gazebo. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes, a familiar knot of fury.

He walked past the debris, kicking at a fallen piece of wood. The audacity of it! He had spent months, *months*, constructing that gazebo. He had envisioned countless evenings spent relaxing with a book, sipping iced tea. Gone. Smashed. All because of their laziness.

He could practically taste the bitterness in the air. He wanted to scream, to smash something, to make them understand the depth of his feelings. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure.