Gemotions

The hammering started before dawn, each thud a fresh wound. Sarah wrapped her arms around herself on the porch swing, the cool air doing nothing to soothe the tremor in her hands. Across the lawn, Mr. Henderson's crew was erecting a fence, a stark line of wood and steel dissecting the manicured green. She remembered last summer, leaning over that very boundary, sharing iced tea and laughter with Liam. Now, the space felt impossibly vast, a chasm widening with every nail hammered into place.

The sunlight, when it finally broke through the clouds, felt cold against her skin. She had spent the last two weeks avoiding this view, this reminder. She had stopped tending her garden, the vibrant blooms now drooping like her spirits. The vibrant red of the roses, a color he'd always loved, seemed especially cruel this morning.

She finally went inside, the rhythmic hammering echoing in the sudden silence of the house.