Gemotions

The smell of sawdust and fresh paint was a poison to Amelia. She spent most of her days barricaded inside her home, a fortress she feared would soon be breached. The pounding, the sawing, the general mayhem, were slowly eroding her ability to function.

The mailman rang the doorbell, but she didn't answer. She couldn't. It could be anyone outside, an interloper, a person who might try to get in. She just crouched by the door, listening to the thud of his steps retreating down her path.

Amelia’s appetite vanished. She couldn’t eat. Every time she got near the window, she caught herself imagining that someone was watching her. She'd pull the curtains shut, but it didn't help. The shadows still moved.