Gemotions

Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John, humming under his breath, carefully spread the avocado on his toast. He savored the first bite, the creamy texture a delightful contrast to the crisp bread. A contented smile played on his lips. Then, the rhythmic hammering began.

He frowned, the sound a discordant note in his carefully constructed morning. The pleasant warmth he'd been experiencing seemed to dissipate, replaced by a subtle tension in his shoulders. He glanced at the clock. Eight thirty. Great.

"Well, that's just fantastic," he grumbled, putting down his toast and reaching for the coffee pot, his pleasure in breakfast completely destroyed.