Gemotions

The insistent buzzing of the circular saw sliced through the quiet afternoon. Emily, startled, spilled her iced tea. She felt a familiar jolt of anxiety. She hated the noise, the implied progress. Her own life, by contrast, felt stagnant. The idea of starting her own projects seemed impossible now.

She should probably go shopping. She always felt the obligation to contribute, to return the smiles and small kindnesses of her neighbours. She knew Mr. Collins, who was doing the renovations, was waiting for her to bake some cookies. She knew they all watched her.

The sun went down, casting long shadows across her kitchen. She started clearing up the mess, feeling the weight of the tasks and her own inaction. She felt a tear drip onto the counter.