Gemotions

The first nail gun shot had sliced through Sarah’s afternoon like a rusty blade. She'd been trying to concentrate on her novel, the words blurring on the page. Now, each sentence was assaulted by the relentless bursts of noise. She slammed the book shut, her hands clenching into fists.

She slammed her fist on the table, the action a release of the building frustration. She paced the room, a caged animal, the sunlight streaming in through the window a taunt of the world she now couldn't bear to face. The walls of her apartment seemed to be closing in.

"Just until it's done," she muttered under her breath, a futile mantra against the tide of her despair. The thought of confronting the neighbor filled her with a profound, debilitating exhaustion. Instead, she wrapped herself in a blanket and wished for silence.