Gemotions

The children had been outside playing when the workers arrived. Now, they were inside, watching, but he had ordered them away from the window. The hammering sounded harsh, a relentless drumbeat against the silence. It was a constant reminder.

He knew his lawn was the worst on the block. The fence felt like a public display of his failings. He imagined the whispers, the averted glances. He didn't want the kids to see, to understand. He wanted to shield them from the quiet shame he was enduring.

He found himself pacing the living room, the familiar routine of his steps a futile attempt to calm his nerves. He kept glancing at the clock, each passing minute amplifying his discomfort. He felt a deep-seated embarrassment. He wished the fence would disappear.