Gemotions

The relentless sawing grated on Arthur’s nerves, a metallic screech that clawed at his already frayed temper. He scowled at the offending property, a house that was now a hive of activity. He’d tried to paint this morning, but couldn't focus. He found it was impossible to concentrate with the noise.

He stood by the window, feeling his shoulders slump. He felt trapped. He thought about the letter he hadn't yet mailed, the unfinished project on his desk. Everything seemed to demand his attention, yet every effort felt futile.