Gemotions

The rhythmic thudding started again. Brenda slammed her book shut, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of her living room. Her jaw clenched. She’d been enjoying the quiet, the afternoon sun warming her face, until *this*. She pictured Mr. Henderson, sweat beading on his forehead as he hammered away, oblivious to the cacophony he was creating. She stood, pacing the length of her rug, each step a tiny explosion of frustration.

She needed to get out, to escape the noise. She grabbed her keys, the metal cold against her palm. She’d go to the library, to immerse herself in someone else's quiet world. The prospect barely soothed the tension coiled in her stomach.