Gemotions

The first nail gun blast ripped through the morning air, and Agnes jumped, nearly spilling her tea. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. She peeked through the blinds, hand clamped over her mouth. The new neighbors, the ones with the suspiciously shiny truck, were already tearing into the back of their house. A cold dread settled in her stomach, a feeling like she'd swallowed a stone.

She retreated, retreating further into the depths of her house. The rhythmic pounding began, a relentless assault on her peace. The walls seemed to vibrate with each strike, a constant reminder of the upheaval next door. She considered turning up the television, anything to drown out the noise, but then thought better of it. It would only make the silence afterwards more crushing.

The rest of the day was a blur of pacing, anxious glances out the window, and a complete inability to focus on anything. Sleep offered no escape. She dreamt of falling walls and the relentless screech of power tools.