Gemotions

The constant drilling echoed in his ears, a constant reminder of his harsh words. He’d stormed out of his house the day before, yelling at Mrs. Gable about the noise, demanding she stop. Now, he regretted it.

He sat at his desk, staring at the unfinished report, the words blurring before his eyes. The guilt gnawed at him. He hated confrontation. He always felt this way after an outburst.

He rose from his chair, a sudden urge compelling him. He grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge and headed towards Mrs. Gable’s front door. He had to say something. The knot in his stomach felt like it was going to burst.