Gemotions

The rhythmic pounding from next door had become a soundtrack to her misery. Each clang, each buzz, seemed to amplify the silence in her own life. She found herself retreating further and further, isolating herself. Her phone remained untouched, her social media accounts were stagnant.

She hadn't answered a single text in a week. She barely left the house. Her apartment felt like a prison. The construction became a kind of torture, a constant reminder of how she had once been, of the person she felt she could have become.

She felt a hollowness, a desert of experience. She sank into her worn armchair, staring blankly at the wall, wishing the world would just… disappear.