Gemotions

The ceiling fan whirred overhead, a monotonous drone that amplified the stillness of the apartment. Amelia shifted on the sofa, the fabric rough against her skin. She had finished her morning coffee two hours ago, and the mug sat abandoned on the coffee table. She felt like an empty vessel, waiting to be filled.

A series of loud thumps shook the building. Mr. Garcia was renovating his kitchen, and the noise echoed through the walls. Amelia rose and wandered to the window. The workers were already tearing down the old cabinets. A strange, almost magnetic pull drew her attention to the scene. She watched them for an hour, captivated by their chaotic energy.