Gemotions

From her kitchen window, Evelyn watched with a rising tide of…disquiet, as the construction crew tore apart the quaint charm of the Victorian next door. Her favorite view, the one she’d painstakingly cultivated for years, was being irrevocably altered.

Her hands, usually busy kneading dough or arranging flowers, were now clasped tightly together. The rhythmic banging felt like a personal affront to her carefully curated aesthetic.

She poured herself another cup of tea, the liquid barely touching her lips. Each hammering blow felt like a direct assault on her sensibilities. She wouldn't speak to them, of course. She'd just…observe. And perhaps, adjust her own garden accordingly.