Gemotions

The first nail gun burst echoed through Eleanor’s kitchen, making her jump so hard she nearly dropped the ceramic mug. Coffee sloshed over the rim, staining the counter a dark brown. She stared at the stain, a slow burn rising in her chest.

She went to the window, peering through the gap in the curtains. The house next door was already a hive of activity. Men in hard hats swarmed the front yard, a truck disgorging lumber. Eleanor felt a tremor in her hands.

Later, she found herself unable to concentrate on her crossword puzzle. Each sharp bang from the construction site snagged at her attention, like tiny hooks. She kept re-reading the clues, missing the answers. The silence that fell between the blasts was almost worse, a heavy anticipation hanging in the air.