Gemotions

"More coffee," she demanded, her voice sharper than usual. The hammering had started early. Her husband, Mark, looked at her, eyebrows raised. He was used to her morning routine of quiet contemplation.

Now she was a whirlwind. The noise from next door, usually a source of annoyance, was now a source of… something else. She found herself tapping her foot, her fingers drumming on the table.

She watched the progress through the kitchen window, her gaze fixed on the unfolding chaos. Every crashing timber, every shouted instruction, fueled a strange, almost manic energy within her. She felt alive, utterly and completely present.