Gemotions

The constant sawing sounded like a chainsaw chewing through his sanity. David sat hunched over his desk, the unfinished manuscript mocking him with its empty pages. He stared out the window at the construction site next door.

His shoulders tensed. The windows had become bars, the view a taunt. He felt as if he could not move; he was frozen. He had to finish this novel, he told himself, but the very thought felt heavy, oppressive, a new layer of weight upon him.

He slammed his fist on the desk. He needed out. His fingers hovered over his phone, but he couldn't bring himself to dial.