Gemotions

The tremor of the first saw cut vibrated through the floorboards. Maya froze mid-sentence, the phone clutched to her ear. Her voice, moments ago animated, dropped to a near whisper. "I… I think I have to go," she stammered, before abruptly hanging up.

A surge of energy coursed through her. She felt like a tightly wound spring. She needed to know what was happening. She rushed to the window, fingers twitching, and peered outside. Men were already dragging lumber across the lawn next door.

Her gaze darted from the construction crew to her own meticulously organized garden, as though comparing the chaos. Maya inhaled sharply, feeling the need to control something. She must protect her things. She grabbed her gardening gloves and headed out the back door, intent on preemptive measures.