Gemotions

The hammering was a relentless migraine, driving her to the edge. It was coming from the house next door, that formerly quiet space now transformed into a noisy battleground. She wanted to yell, to scream, but the words caught in her throat.

She found herself pacing the living room, hands clenching and unclenching. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. She went to the window, trying to orient herself. The familiar street seemed distorted, the houses morphing into something unfamiliar.

She went to make a cup of tea, but couldn't seem to find the teapot. She opened and closed every cupboard, every drawer, her search fruitless. It was as if things had vanished. Her mind struggled to focus. A sense of wrongness permeated everything.