Gemotions

The clock on the wall ticked with agonizing slowness. Sarah sighed, the sound lost in the vast emptiness of her living room. She had organized her books by color, alphabetized her spice rack, and cleaned the baseboards – tasks she would normally postpone until the last possible moment. There was nothing left to do.

Then the hammering began. Across the street, the Andersons' were finally updating their garage. The cacophony of renovation was a jarring disruption to the suffocating quiet. She found herself peering through the blinds. She felt a dull ache, a feeling of being trapped in a repetitive loop. Her hand reached for her car keys.