Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a source of comfort, now seemed tasteless. She took a sip and placed the mug on the counter, the clink of ceramic against granite an unwanted intrusion in her quiet world. The sound of the jackhammer next door was making her teeth hurt.

She wandered through her apartment, touching the familiar objects as if to reassure herself of their existence. The worn armchair, the faded photograph on the mantelpiece, each a silent witness to a reality she could no longer hold onto. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but she merely stood, her shoulders slumped.