Gemotions

The smell of freshly cut wood was intoxicating. It mingled with the scent of sawdust, a perfume of new beginnings that made me feel so… heavy. I watched from my upstairs window as the workers laughed, their voices drifting up to me. The new kitchen was coming along nicely, I had to admit.

I’d offered to help Mrs. Henderson pick out paint colors, but she'd declined, a polite dismissal. I understood. We hadn't spoken since… since the incident with the dog. The memory of it flickered across my mind, a bright, searing pain.

I should have just stayed quiet. I should have kept my mouth shut. Now, the walls of my own house felt like they were closing in on me. I rubbed my arms, despite the warmth of the summer day. The laughter, the hammering… it all felt like a celebration I wasn’t invited to.