Gemotions

My hands flew to my mouth, stifling a gasp. The air vibrated with the screech of a power saw, a sound that sliced through the afternoon calm. I peeked through the blinds. Mrs. Gable, renowned for her prize-winning petunias and gossiping, was perched atop a ladder, wielding a nail gun with surprising dexterity.

It was the sight of the bright pink flamingoes she’d always loathed being ripped from the lawn that finally broke me. I hadn't seen the neighbor so busy in a decade.

A thought flickered in my mind, then disappeared. What madness was this? I was frozen in place. My legs felt like lead. This was going to be a long summer, I knew it already.