Gemotions

The first jackhammer blast jolted Eleanor awake. She sat straight up in bed, heart hammering against her ribs. Sunlight sliced through the curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air, a miniature blizzard of impending doom. She scrambled out of bed, pulling on her robe. Her stomach churned, a cold knot tightening with each shudder of the house.

She peeked through the blinds. Mr. Henderson’s house was a hive of activity. Men in hard hats swarmed, already tearing down the porch. Eleanor swallowed hard, the dryness in her throat making it difficult. Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone, dialing her daughter’s number. “Honey, are you free to chat for a bit?”