Gemotions

The first wrench of a power drill had made Amelia drop her knitting needles. She stared at the wall separating her from the Martins, her needles rolling across the floor. She knelt to pick them up, then remained crouched there, frozen in place. The drilling continued, a high-pitched whine that grated on her nerves.

She crawled to the window, peering out. The Martins’ usually tidy garden was now a construction site. Their house, once so pleasant, was now surrounded by piles of lumber and discarded debris. She felt a strange buzzing in her ears.

She slowly got up, her hands trembling. She suddenly knew that she was going to need a lot of tea.