Gemotions

“I should have known better,” she whispered, tracing the outline of a crack in the plaster. The words were a familiar refrain. She berated herself for the poor financial decisions that had led her to this house – a fixer-upper, when she lacked the skill or time. Every chipped tile, every uneven floorboard, was a jab at her lack of ability.

She was exploring the downstairs, and found a curious section of the wall. She tapped it, and it opened, revealing a room that seemed to have no function. The room was mostly empty, save for a small, iron-bound chest. Inside was a collection of worn-out tools. A hammer, a saw, a wrench. She knew what to do, but as usual, she had left it too late. She had so many projects, and so little time.