Gemotions

The rhythmic rasp of the saw was a percussive counterpoint to the chirping of the birds. Heat radiated off the freshly sawn wood, a smell like sunshine and something wild. I found myself lingering near the property line, "helping" him move planks, the slightest brush of his hand against mine sending a jolt through me. Each time our fingers accidentally grazed, my pulse quickened. The air itself seemed to shimmer. "Need some water?" I asked, my voice coming out breathy. He smiled, a slow, easy smile that did things to my insides.