Gemotions

The constant vibrations were insidious, a low hum that settled in David’s chest, making it hard to breathe. He sat at his desk, staring blankly at the computer screen, the words he had been composing now meaningless. Each impact, each clang, felt like a direct blow to his already fragile concentration. He hated it.

He skipped lunch. The thought of eating was revolting. He just wanted to disappear. He craved the serenity of his small apartment before the demolition began. He missed the quiet.

He picked at a loose thread on his sweater, the action a pointless attempt at grounding himself. He felt a profound sense of isolation, trapped in his apartment, a prisoner of the construction. He wanted to yell, to shout, but the words caught in his throat.