Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in her mouth. She'd barely slept, the incessant clatter from next door keeping her wide awake until dawn. Her shoulders were tense; the familiar ache had returned, a knot of unease between her shoulder blades.

She threw the newspaper down on the table, the headline about rising property values mocking her. That was all it was about, wasn't it? Money. Replacing the character of the neighborhood with a sterile, generic copy.

She slammed the empty mug in the sink. The dishes clattered together, the sound echoing in the empty kitchen. A headache was starting to bloom behind her eyes, the insistent pounding mirroring the jackhammer rhythms outside.