Gemotions

The construction noise, once a background annoyance, had become a soundtrack to her misery. The fence, slowly taking shape, was a physical manifestation of her isolation. She hadn't left the house in days. She could feel the stares and the hushed whispers of her neighbors.

She sat on her porch, staring at the fence. The air was thick with the scent of sawdust and the weight of unspoken grief. She watched the birds flit across the barrier, unhindered, while she felt trapped, imprisoned by her memories.

She picked at a loose thread on her sweater, her fingers tracing the worn fabric.