Gemotions

From his porch swing, Thomas watched the fence go up, brick by brick. His neighbor, Emily, seemed to be actively avoiding eye contact, even though she was right there, overseeing the work. He'd always considered them friends.

He ran his hand through his thinning hair, a nervous gesture. He'd been looking forward to their weekly chats.

The wall grew taller and taller, blocking the view of his prized collection of birdhouses, the ones he'd built himself. The silence in the air was as thick as the concrete mix. Each brick felt like a personal slight. He felt his face grow hot, and a wave of nausea washed over him.