Gemotions

He shuffled to the window, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The incessant hammering echoed in the empty house, a relentless pulse that seemed to match the ache in his chest. “Just great,” he muttered, his voice raspy from disuse. He hadn’t spoken to anyone properly in days. He’d barely spoken at all.

His neighbor's yard was a mess of planks and scaffolding. Everything was out of place. He pulled the curtains closed, plunging the room into further shadow. The silence offered some solace, a temporary reprieve from the cacophony. He rubbed his temples, the phantom headache a constant companion.