Gemotions

The first nail gun burst echoed through the thin walls of her apartment. Sarah froze, halfway through buttering her toast. The clatter and bang were definitely coming from next door. She slowly lowered the knife, the butter glistening under the kitchen light. A creeping sensation spread through her chest, a tightening that made it difficult to breathe. She found herself staring at the wall, willing the noise to cease, but the staccato rhythm continued, relentless.

She wandered to the window, peering out at Mr. Henderson's house. A dumpster already sat in the driveway, overflowing with what looked like perfectly good wood. His usually meticulously manicured lawn was now littered with tools. She just stood there, her mouth slightly agape, watching as Mr. Henderson, normally so quiet and reserved, began swinging a sledgehammer.

A long, slow exhale escaped her. She’d always admired the peace and quiet.