Gemotions

The rhythmic hammering from next door had been going on for hours, a maddening counterpoint to Maya’s attempts at meditation. Her chest felt constricted, a vise slowly tightening. She threw her meditation cushion across the room, the flimsy fabric landing with a pathetic thud.

She stalked to the window, peering through the gap in the blinds. The noise was the sound of renovation, but a particularly irritating one. She saw the neighbor, a burly man with a permanent scowl, wielding a sledgehammer with alarming enthusiasm.

“That… that brute!” she hissed, her voice barely a whisper. She considered calling the city but decided against it, her teeth clenching. She would do this herself. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for confrontation.