Gemotions

The hammering started before the sun even crested the horizon. Sarah groaned, pulling the covers over her head, though the rhythmic thudding still vibrated through the mattress. She hadn't left her bedroom in two days, the world feeling too heavy to bear. Now, this. Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, was finally putting up that fence he'd been talking about.

She knew she should probably get up, at least open a window. The air in her room was thick and stale, but the thought of facing the day, the noise, the *effort* of it all, was paralyzing.

Suddenly, she heard a dog barking, then a voice – Mr. Henderson’s, cheerfully calling out to someone. A sharp pang of envy shot through her. To be that... up. To be that... *functioning*.

The hammering continued, a relentless, mocking soundtrack to her inertia. The fence, she knew, would be beautiful. Perfectly straight lines, a new sense of order. She just couldn't bring herself to care.