Gemotions

"Another day, another… sound," Mrs. Henderson muttered to herself. The first swing of the hammer had hit her just as she was trying to get dressed. It was a physical feeling, a punch to the gut. The air felt heavy, the light seemed muted.

The silence of her house, once a comfort, now felt like a fragile shield constantly under attack. She made a pot of tea, but even the familiar ritual brought no solace. Her reflection in the window showed a woman aged beyond her years.

She picked up the remote, her hand trembling slightly. Turning on the television felt like a futile attempt to drown out the noise, a drowning that felt like it would soon encompass her.