Gemotions

"Alright, that's the last one!" Mark said to himself, gently setting down the last toolbox on the workbench. The garage, his haven, was perfectly organized; each tool hung in its appointed place. Dust motes danced in the slivers of sunlight that pierced through the grimy window. He'd spent the entire morning tidying up, a ritual he found intensely calming.

He wiped his hands on a clean rag and leaned against the counter, a sigh escaping his lips. He ran his fingers through his hair. He could now start his next project with a clear head.

A monstrous crash shook the ground. The windows rattled in their frames.