Gemotions

"Another day, another nail," she muttered, not with irritation, but with a gentle amusement that surprised even her. The relentless hammering had become a strange comfort, a backdrop to her quiet existence. She poured herself another cup of coffee.

She felt the sun on her skin. There was a sort of peace that came with inactivity. The book on her nightstand remained unread. The garden stayed untended.

The noise from next door was the equivalent of a light rain, washing over her. She knew the sounds were evidence of change. She felt no compulsion to participate.