Gemotions

The blueprints were tacked to the fence. He’d seen them. New windows, a fresh coat of paint. He knew they’d be noisy. He just didn't particularly care.

He sat on his porch swing, watching the dust. The sun was warm, and the breeze was gentle. The hammering, the sawing, the shouting – all of it registered at a distance. He found himself more focused on the bird that kept landing on his feeder.

He reached for a cold glass of lemonade. The ice clinked. He was lost in the movement of the hummingbird hovering, ignoring the noise next door. He had his own life.