Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread, usually a comfort, now felt cloying. He had spent the morning working on his sourdough starter. He knew he should be enjoying the moment, but the incessant drilling from next door had ruined his enthusiasm.

He felt the familiar pressure in his chest. His kitchen windows faced the construction site. It was impossible to ignore the sounds. He'd almost given up baking altogether. He should just throw the starter away.

He walked over to the window, watching the workers go about their business. He reached for his phone, then stopped. What was the point of complaining? Nothing would change. He turned away. He just sighed, a long, drawn-out expulsion of air.