Gemotions

The rhythmic thudding started before dawn, each hammer blow a fresh jab. Sarah clutched the blanket tighter, the goosebumps on her arms rising in protest. Her breath hitched. The project next door. It felt like a deliberate act, a violation of the quiet she craved, the quiet she deserved. She’d spent weeks carefully cultivating her garden, a small haven of peace. Now, the sounds were a relentless assault on her carefully constructed tranquility.

She slammed the window shut, the glass rattling. This morning, she’d planned to enjoy her coffee and the sunrise in the backyard, but the thought of that now seemed impossible. Instead, she paced the kitchen, the floorboards groaning under her agitated steps. A bitter taste coated her tongue, a feeling that had little to do with the coffee she left to brew.