Gemotions

The shovel felt heavy in her hands, the late afternoon sun beating down on her back. She’d been at it for hours, attempting to dig up the proposed fence posts on her own. Her muscles screamed in protest. Her breath came in ragged gasps.

She wiped the sweat from her brow. They were going to steal her land. Her husband’s ashes were scattered there, under the rose bushes. The thought brought tears to her eyes, blurring her vision. She could feel her heart pounding, like a trapped bird.

Every swing of the shovel was an act of defiance, a desperate attempt to hold onto what remained. The earth was dry and unyielding. She collapsed to the ground. She couldn’t fail. She wouldn’t.