Gemotions

The drills were relentless, piercing his every thought. Mark cursed under his breath, his fists clenched so tightly his nails were digging into his palms. Across the fence, that blasted Mr. Peterson was finally getting around to that deck. It was a project that had been promised for months.

He knew Peterson was a stickler for rules. Mark knew the regulations, too. He'd spend his evening finding every tiny infraction, every minor oversight, and report it to the authorities. Every delay. Every fine.

He felt the tension ease slightly as he thought about it. A small sense of satisfaction.