Gemotions

The hammering started before dawn, each thud a fresh wound. Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, the chill in the air a poor match for the icy dread that had taken root in her chest. Mr. Henderson, with his endless cheer and meticulously trimmed roses, had decided on a fence. Now, she could hear him, cheerfully shouting directions across the property line. She hadn't left her house in days, the world feeling too loud, too bright, too empty.

She pulled the curtains open slightly, peering out at the scene. The bright yellow of his new fence posts mocked the grayness of her own world. Each swing of the hammer vibrated through the floorboards, a relentless reminder of the stillness in her own house.

A knot formed in her stomach. She hadn't been able to sleep.