Gemotions

The clinking of tools and the steady scrape of the shovel were the only sounds filling the morning air. I knew something was going to happen. I could feel it in my bones. I clenched my fists and fought the urge to rush outside.

My chest felt tight, constricted. I paced my kitchen floor, restless. I tried to focus on my morning routine, but the images of Mr. Abernathy and his new fence, were playing in my head.

I made the coffee, but I couldn't drink it. I had to know. I threw on my coat and walked outside.