Gemotions

A tremor ran through Agnes's hands as she watched the truck pull up next door. Her grip tightened on the watering can, a cheap plastic thing that felt suddenly flimsy. The familiar peace of her morning routine, the gentle sloshing of water against her prize-winning petunias, dissolved like sugar in hot tea. She squinted, focusing on the men unloading tools.

Her jaw clenched. She hated construction. Always had. The noise, the mess… the sheer disruption. This was her sanctuary.

She retreated inside, slamming the screen door with more force than necessary. The sudden quiet of her living room was a small comfort, but her pulse hammered in her ears. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the frantic rhythm.