Gemotions

The rumble of the cement mixer sent a shiver down Daniel’s spine, making him almost drop his phone. He was on his way to his therapy appointment, a session he’d almost canceled that morning. He knew he should be going out, exercising, starting new things, but that all sounded so difficult now. He’d spent years in a rut, and his neighbour's project had somehow made his isolation worse.

The air smelled of sawdust and fresh paint, a constant reminder of progress. He watched, from his window, the builders going about their work. He felt himself frozen by it, by the energy and direction. He considered the sheer volume of choices involved in a renovation, from tile selection to cabinet styles, and felt a pressure in his chest.

When he finally made it to the appointment, he found himself unable to speak, overcome by the feeling of being rooted. Instead, he just sat there, listening to the muffled sounds of the street, wishing he were anywhere else.