Gemotions

She pulled the curtains shut, even though it was already mid-afternoon. The sunlight, she now realized, was an enemy, a constant reminder of the outside world. The relentless hammering had started already, a rhythmic assault on her peace. Mr. Peterson, their new neighbor, had casually suggested it in the hallway that morning.

He wanted to cut down the tree, the one they shared.

Each beat of the hammer resonated within her, a physical ache. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. Her breath hitched in her throat, a choked sob fighting to escape. She couldn't breathe, each breath was a struggle.

She wanted to scream.