Gemotions

The dust was the worst. It seeped under the door, a fine, insidious powder that coated every surface. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the grit scratch against her corneas. The noise was relentless, a constant barrage of hammering and sawing that made her head ache.

She avoided the window, afraid to see the chaos unfolding next door. She'd caught glimpses of the demolition, the ripped-out walls, the exposed studs. It was a terrifying spectacle of vulnerability and change. She pulled the curtains shut, hoping to shut out the world.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Her son, usually boisterous, spoke in a quiet voice. She nodded, forcing a smile. She didn’t want him to pick up on her…her tension. She felt brittle, fragile, like she was about to shatter. She hugged him close, taking comfort in his warmth.