Gemotions

"More coffee?" Mrs. Gable, the lady next door, offered, her voice brimming with a vibrant energy that grated on Eleanor. The renovation was going swimmingly, according to her. Eleanor forced a smile. Mrs. Gable's kitchen would soon be a showpiece. Eleanor’s life remained stagnant.

She took a small, careful sip, the coffee scalding her tongue. She barely registered the taste. The constant hammering felt like a personal judgment, each blow a condemnation of her lack of accomplishment. The clatter and chatter over the fence felt foreign and out of reach.

She found herself avoiding all of the windows, pretending to not see the bustle and activity. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, she couldn’t even bring herself to reach for the crossword puzzle. The silence of her apartment felt oppressive, and the noise next door unbearable.