Gemotions

Michael slammed the car door with unnecessary force, the sound echoing in the quiet street. He kicked a stray pebble across his lawn as he approached his front door, the envelope from the HOA clutched tightly in his hand. It was the proposal for the fence, the one that would block his view of the sunset.

A wave of heat surged through him, making his face flush. He ripped the envelope open, the paper tearing roughly under his fingers. The nerve of it, he thought, the audacity.

He slumped onto the porch swing, the wood groaning under his weight. He felt a throbbing in his temples, a dull ache that wouldn't go away. He wanted to scream.