Gemotions

The sound of the saw sliced through the quiet afternoon like a physical blow. Her hands flew to her ears, as though to physically block out the noise. She knew this was the beginning of her demise. The construction was her nemesis.

She rushed to the window, the blinds still half-closed. She parted them just enough to peer outside. She saw workers and the bare wood frame of the house. She let out a small, strangled sound.

She had to escape. The thought was a beacon. She turned and began to gather her things, her movements frantic and inefficient. Where could she go? She didn't know, but she had to go somewhere.