Gemotions

"Honestly," huffed Beatrice, twisting the volume knob on her television up to its highest setting. The news anchor's voice, usually a comforting presence, now grated on her nerves. The source of her irritation: the constant noise of construction from the new house being built next door.

Beatrice peered through her curtains. The workers, young and tanned, moved with a freedom she no longer possessed. She hated the way they all spoke to one another, full of laughter. She hadn’t had anyone to laugh with in years.

A wave of bitterness washed over her, replacing a familiar longing. She pulled the curtains shut, then, with a sharp intake of breath, pulled them open again, just enough to see what was happening. She needed to know.