Gemotions

The rhythmic thudding started promptly at seven each morning, a percussive announcement of the day. Sarah pulled the covers tighter, the sound barely registering beyond a vague annoyance. She knew, of course, the hammering came from the house next door, where the new neighbors were finally starting their renovations. She’d seen the plans taped to their front door; a new sunroom, a bigger kitchen. Honestly, she couldn't care less.

She forced herself out of bed, the usual morning routine taking precedence. Coffee brewing, toast browning, the same news program playing in the background. She ate, the morning's racket a constant, low-level irritation. It was just noise.

Later, she walked the dog, avoiding eye contact with the construction workers. They waved, but she just offered a tight smile. Back home, she closed the windows, the hammering somewhat muffled now, and resumed her work, the project looming larger than any physical noise.