Gemotions

The kettle whistled, a shrill sound that grated on her nerves. Sarah clenched her fists as she poured the boiling water into a mug. The complaint from the downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was taped to her fridge. A small paper missile aimed at her happiness.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the frantic thoughts swirling in her head. Had she been too loud? Was she being inconsiderate? The guilt was a cold fist clenching around her.

She stared out the window, at the vibrant green of the park across the street, a stark contrast to the tightening in her chest. Picking up the mug, she found her hand trembling, a small tremor that threatened to spill the tea.