Gemotions

She slammed the window shut, the sound echoing in the stillness of her apartment. The hammering started again, rhythmic and relentless, a cruel percussion accompanying the silence in her own life. She chewed the inside of her cheek, a bitter taste rising in her mouth.

The fence posts were going in, tall and imposing, separating her from the world. A world that, lately, seemed determined to shut her out. She ran her hands down her arms, a shiver running through her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, as if the physical barrier was somehow a mirror reflecting her own isolation back at her.

The scent of freshly cut wood wafted in, sweet and cloying. She hated the smell. She hated everything.