Gemotions

The construction noise grated on Martha’s nerves. She considered retreating into her bedroom, but the thought of being cooped up, of listening to the endless racket, felt claustrophobic. She felt completely trapped.

The offending structure, which used to be a charming house, was now draped in blue tarpaulins and swarming with workers. She tried to understand the appeal, the need for this metamorphosis, but it was beyond her comprehension.

She found herself meticulously cleaning, scrubbing surfaces until they shone. Even that seemed insufficient, as if she could never rid herself of the sensation of something clinging to her. She wanted to retreat into a bubble, to escape the harsh reality.