Gemotions

The construction work. It was a necessary evil, the new building going up next door. But the angry email from his wife, complaining that he was making too much noise when trying to concentrate on his work, felt like a judgment. "It's disruptive!" The email said.

He felt the tension in his shoulders tighten. He walked to the window, surveying the building site. The hammering, the sawing, the constant drone of machinery, which he had once barely registered, now grated on his ears.

He went back inside, trying to focus. It felt impossible. Every creak of the old house, every gust of wind, seemed to intensify, mocking his efforts.