Gemotions

The drills, the saws, the endless clamor... For Emily, the sounds were a relentless reminder of her own perceived inertia. She felt her face flush with a heat that she couldn’t control, a feeling she had to hide from herself.

She spent hours cleaning, scrubbing surfaces until they shone. It was a way to feel in control of something, anything. The perfection she sought in her kitchen, and elsewhere, was never quite achieved.

Later, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn't come. The noise next door intensified as the sun went down. The feeling of not being good enough swelled inside her.