Gemotions

The rhythmic thudding started before dawn. Sarah, still half-asleep, wrestled with her duvet. It was Mr. Henderson, she knew, embarking on his kitchen remodel. Sighing, she pulled on her dressing gown and went to her window, peering through the gauzy curtains. He looked so small, hunched over in the early morning light, wrestling with a sheet of plywood.

She made a pot of coffee, adding an extra scoop for good measure. After brewing, she wrapped a thermos of it in a dishcloth and walked over to his house. She found him swearing quietly at a particularly stubborn screw.

“Morning, Mr. Henderson,” she said gently, holding out the thermos. “Thought you might need a little fuel.”

He looked up, startled, then his face softened. "Well, Sarah, that's mighty kind of you. Thank you."