Gemotions

The drilling from the construction site next door was a constant, grating presence. Even with the windows closed, the noise was inescapable. Michael pressed his palms against his ears, but it did little to stop the vibration in his bones.

He paced his apartment, the small space seeming to shrink with each passing hour. He felt a deep, profound weariness. He glanced at the clock on the wall, the slow ticking a torturous reminder of the relentless passage of time.

He stared out the window at the construction site, the source of his misery. The sky seemed a vast expanse, but he felt unable to reach it. He was tethered, bound to his apartment, the drone of the drilling a constant, inescapable weight.