Gemotions

The clinking of tools in the neighbor's yard had been going on for hours. It grated on her senses. She kept glancing at the clock, each second stretching into an eternity.

She pulled the curtains open slightly, peering through the glass. Her neighbor, Mr. Harrison, was gesturing towards the massive willow tree that leaned over the property line. She felt a cold dread settle in her bones.

Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. She should go outside, she knew. She should be polite. But the thought of confronting him – of the confrontation itself – made her want to retreat and hide.