Gemotions

It was the persistent scent of freshly sawn timber that first drew him outside. The hammering was incessant, yet somehow, it didn't annoy him. Instead, it stirred something deep within him. He found himself walking casually toward the fence, leaning against it, watching.

He ran a hand through his hair, the skin on his scalp prickling. His gaze fixed on the way his neighbor moved, the precision with which he worked. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to do something, anything, with his hands.

He watched until the sun began to dip, casting long shadows. He felt a deep ache that he couldn't name.