Gemotions

The first nail gun burst of the day jolted Martha awake. She fumbled for her phone, squinting at the harsh glare of the screen. 6:47 AM. She groaned, pulling the covers over her head. The incessant hammering next door had started again. She knew it, with a certainty that settled like a stone in her stomach. Another day, another assault on her already fragile peace.

She considered calling the city, but the thought of navigating the bureaucratic maze tied her in knots. Her chest felt constricted. The air in her small apartment seemed thick, almost unbreathable. She imagined herself as a tiny boat, tossed about in a chaotic sea of noise and disruption. She had a deadline to meet, a presentation she had been working on for months. This constant distraction was doing her in.

Martha finally rolled out of bed, her limbs heavy with a weariness that had nothing to do with sleep. She felt a tremor in her hands as she reached for the coffee pot.