Gemotions

The drone of the circular saw was like a persistent mosquito buzzing around Michael’s head. It was unbearable. He stood at his front door, watching David, the new neighbor, struggle to get a piece of lumber into place. He almost wished David would injure himself. Just a tiny setback.

A wicked plan began to hatch in his mind. He strolled over, a picture of neighborly concern etched on his face. “Need a hand?” he offered, his voice dripping with false cheer. He eyed the haphazard pile of tools; a few items easily moved, a few things *misplaced*.

David, oblivious, gratefully accepted his help.