Gemotions

The fence posts stood like silent sentinels, stark against the fading light. He watched them from his bedroom window, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the sill. The garden, once a shared space, was now bisected. He used to talk to old man Abernathy across the dividing line.

He hadn't been to Abernathy's side in weeks, since the old man fell ill. Now, the new fence was a tomb. It wasn't the fence itself, he realized, but the void it symbolized. The silence in the air, the unsaid words, the memories that lingered like a faint, lingering perfume.

He let out a long breath. He knew why he was feeling this way. He just didn't know how to stop.