Gemotions

The morning light felt thin, almost anemic, as Sarah poured her coffee. Her shoulders slumped as she stared out the kitchen window. The rhythmic thudding from next door had started again. Another day of jackhammers and sawdust, another assault on the quiet she craved. She’d been trying to read, but the sentences swam before her eyes, and the words seemed to hold no meaning. She sighed, a puff of air escaping her lips that seemed to carry all her energy with it.

The incessant noise was the final straw. She slammed her mug down, the ceramic clinking sharply against the countertop. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a familiar sensation these past few weeks. This renovation was a living metaphor for everything that was wrong. Everything felt broken, unfinished, and loud.