Gemotions

The first jackhammer blast jolted Eleanor awake. She shoved the pillow over her head, but the rhythmic thudding still pulsed through the mattress, a brutal drumbeat against her skull. She’d been staring at the ceiling for hours before sleep finally claimed her. Now, this. She threw the covers aside, the cool air raising gooseflesh on her arms, and padded to the window. Across the manicured lawn, the Millers' house was a hive of activity. Men in hard hats swarmed, a cloud of dust already hanging in the air.

She sighed, a sound that felt heavy in her chest. Breakfast was going to be another solitary affair, she thought, knowing the prospect did not excite her. She glanced at the calendar, a stark reminder of the empty spaces that stretched out before her. Every week seemed to be the same.

She closed the blinds, the sudden darkness a meager attempt to shut out the relentless noise and the vibrant, bustling life that now existed next door, a stark contrast to her own quiet routine. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a familiar ache she couldn’t quite name.