Gemotions

He'd asked for a hand, and I couldn't refuse. The weight of the post felt good in my arms, a physical challenge that grounded me even as the world around me seemed to tilt. The sun beat down, turning the air thick and heavy. A trickle of sweat snaked down my back. I focused on the task, on the solid wood, on the feel of the earth beneath my boots, but every glance at him was a distraction. His work boots. His strong grip. The way his brow crinkled when he was thinking. My skin felt suddenly tight, stretched thin.