Gemotions

The hammering started before the sun even thought about making its appearance. He pulled the covers over his head, but the rhythmic thudding persisted, a dull ache echoing in his chest. A new fence. Another boundary erected. He hated the idea.

He shuffled to the kitchen, the floorboards groaning under his weight. The coffee tasted like ash, the usual comfort failing to materialize. He gazed out the window, watching the construction crew, their movements brisk and efficient. He wished he could feel their energy.

“Morning, Arthur,” Mrs. Gable, his new neighbor, chirped from the edge of her yard. Her voice grated on him. He just nodded, retreating back inside, the space around him suddenly feeling too large, too echoing with emptiness. He didn't want a fence. He wanted something different. He wasn't even sure what.