Gemotions

She found herself flinching every time the circular saw whined to life. Her hands trembled as she clutched the phone, dialing her brother's number for the third time this morning. He didn’t answer. She considered calling the police. It was probably ridiculous.

The incessant banging echoed through her apartment, a relentless drumbeat against her nerves. Each strike felt like a physical blow. She moved through the rooms, checking the locks on the windows, the deadbolt on the door, again and again.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she crept to the peephole. Mr. Davis, her new neighbor, was hunched over something, his back to her. She could barely see him, but the angle and the way he moved felt pointed, as if he was somehow aware of her looking. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead.