Gemotions

The afternoon light cast long shadows as the workmen worked. They were all smiles, joking and laughing, as they measured and hammered. He watched them from his porch, a cold knot forming in his gut. They were building a wall.

He’d offered to help, just to be neighbourly, even though he knew he wouldn't be able to. Mr. Garcia had just looked at him oddly and said, “No, thanks, we’ve got this.”

He retreated back into his house, feeling the familiar, heavy blanket of despair settle over him. He closed the door, the click of the latch sounding loud in the quiet. He didn’t want to see the wall go up. It wasn't the fence he minded. It was the message it sent.