Gemotions

The first nail driven into the first post seemed to pierce his own skin. He winced, as if he’d been struck. The thought of confronting his neighbor, Mr. Davis, froze him. He’d tried, rehearsing phrases of polite opposition in the mirror, but his voice always failed him.

He couldn't sleep. Every creak and groan of the construction haunted his dreams. He spent his days in a fog of unease, finding himself easily startled, his nerves frayed. He took long, aimless walks, avoiding the side of the street that faced his neighbor's house. Even the birdsong seemed to mock him, their cheerful calls contrasting with the dark undercurrent of his mood.