Gemotions

He was building the fence. Across the property line. It was a simple chain-link affair, but it looked beautiful to Marcus. He'd been watching from his kitchen window, coffee forgotten on the counter. His palms grew clammy.

He’d almost tripped over the dog on his way out the door, eager for a glimpse of her. She’d told him she was going out of town for a week, and he had been miserable until now. She was leaning against a post, directing the workers. Her hair, loose and free, moved with every little breeze.

“Need a hand?” he blurted out, the words surprising him. He hadn't even thought about the practicality of the offer. He just wanted to be closer. The crew gave him a look. He hoped she wouldn’t think he was weird. She just smiled at him and said, "Sure. More hands are always welcome."