Gemotions

The first thing she registered was the smell: sawdust and fresh paint. Then the noise: a symphony of destruction and creation echoing from next door. It vibrated through the floorboards, through her teeth, through her very core. She sat bolt upright in bed, heart racing.

A sense of being outside herself washed over her. She tried to reach for something familiar. Her phone. Her slippers. Her routine. But her hands seemed clumsy, her movements sluggish. Her mind was a jumbled mess.

She walked to the window, the world outside a hazy, unfocused image. The once-ordered street was now a construction zone. Her neighbor’s house, in disarray, was both fascinating and deeply unnerving. It was as if her anchor had been lifted, leaving her adrift in the wake of the renovation.