Gemotions

The new sounds infiltrated Daniel's studio. He tried to block them out, turning up his speakers and continuing to paint, but the persistent drone was a force. He stopped painting, his brush hanging limply in his hand.

He felt a tightness in his throat, a difficulty breathing, as the incessant construction continued. He pushed away from his easel and stood at the window, staring at the chaos. He didn't want to engage, but the energy of the work next door wouldn't let him look away.

He considered going out, but the thought of facing the noise, the dust, the disruption, made his stomach twist. He returned to his painting, but the brush felt heavy.