Gemotions

The pounding started at precisely 8:00 AM. Sarah, nestled under the covers, stiffened. Then, she thought of Mr. Henderson, next door. He had always been so thoughtful, always offering to take her trash cans to the curb, always checking in when she seemed down. She could tolerate a little noise.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her old bones creaked in protest, but she smiled, thinking about the scent of fresh-cut lumber and the promise of a revitalized space next door. She’d always loved his house.

The smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen. She poured a mug and, with a lightness in her step she hadn’t felt in years, opened the window, letting the morning air, and the sounds of construction, fill her small apartment.