Gemotions

The dust was the worst. It swirled through the air, coating everything in a fine, gritty layer. It got into Amelia's eyes, making them sting, and into her lungs, causing her to cough, a dry, hacking sound that echoed the emptiness within her. The renovation, a brutal assault on her senses, seemed to mirror the upheaval inside her. Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, was finally expanding his deck.

She avoided looking at the open space where her husband, Robert, had built a small garden for her. He loved to sit out there with her and drink their evening tea. She missed his presence in the garden and on the deck more than anything.

She retreated to the back room, pulling the curtains and sitting. Sunlight streamed through, illuminating the floating dust motes. She rubbed her arms, a chill clinging to her even though the day was warm. The radio played softly, a talk show blathering about the stock market. She snapped it off. The silence, broken only by the incessant hammering, was somehow more bearable.