Gemotions

The relentless clatter of the nail gun was a constant reminder. She leaned against her kitchen counter, the ceramic cold against her cheek. She was normally a baker, but today, the thought of making something sweet turned her stomach. A fence was a barrier, a wall.

She closed her eyes, imagining the freedom of the open fields she’d visited as a child. A different life, far away from all this. She opened the refrigerator, but there was nothing there that appealed to her. The colors seemed muted, the food unappetizing.

She opened the door to the backyard. The fresh wood of the fence looked alien, a thing out of place. This was just another change in an endless stream of changes, and she was weary of it all.