Gemotions

The pounding started at precisely 8:00 AM. Sarah flinched, the sound vibrating through the thin walls of her apartment. She glanced at the sweatpants she’d been wearing for three days and immediately felt a prickle of unease. The hammering seemed to intensify with each passing minute, each blow a judgment on her current state of disarray. She quickly pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a blouse, even though she wasn't planning on leaving the building. The image of the new, young neighbor, probably brimming with energy and competence, working on his home while she was… well, she was in this apartment.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt, reminding her of the unwashed dishes piled in the sink. She couldn't meet his gaze, if she ever saw him. She’d peeked through the blinds the day before and observed him moving furniture, so tall and effortlessly put-together. He’d probably judge her, the mess, the laziness.

She paced, her anxiety a physical weight. The hammering continued, the rhythm a relentless reminder.