Gemotions

He had been planning on painting his fence today. Now, he wouldn’t be able to hear himself think. Michael ran outside in his slippers, a half-eaten bagel still clutched in his hand. The scene before him was like something out of a disaster movie. Dust swirled, men shouted, and a section of the usually pristine Smith house was now completely exposed.

"What… what is going on here?" he called out, his voice thin and reedy, as he approached the crew. One of the workers barely glanced up, grunting something unintelligible. Michael felt a sudden and intense need to sit down. He took a few steps, then turned back towards his house. The bagel suddenly seemed unappetizing.