Gemotions

The insistent buzzing of the power saw sliced through the afternoon. He’d seen the look on Mr. Johnson’s face, a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion, when he'd opened the door. He’d ignored it.

He'd been in a hurry to finish the project. He should have waited for a more suitable time, but the allure of the new workshop was too great. The hammering, sawing and drilling. It all seemed to drown out the voice in his head.

He sat on the steps, the saw still humming. He felt a deep, pervasive ache. The workshop, once a source of excitement, now felt like a prison of his making. He closed his eyes.