Gemotions

The jackhammer’s vibrations shook her, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within. She sat by the window, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. The renovations, the excitement, the new life promised by the transformation was something she couldn’t share.

She’d spent the morning staring at the empty space on the wall where a picture used to hang. It was a space, like the one in her own life, that was now a permanent vacancy. The construction, she thought, was not the start of something new, but the end of an era.

She rubbed her temples, trying to ward off the pressure that was building. The sounds of construction were getting louder, just like her memories. She felt unable to breathe and the dust from the street seemed to be finding its way into her lungs.