Gemotions

The whine of the circular saw sliced through the morning air, a sharp, metallic cry that set Martha’s teeth on edge. This renovation business next door. It was disrupting the peace, the quiet she cherished. Still, she found herself glued to her window, watching the demolition crew dismantle the old porch.

Her hand drifted to her throat, touching the worn silver locket she always wore. Inside, a tiny portrait of her late husband. She remembered the porch, the countless hours they had spent there, sipping iced tea in the summer, watching the fireflies dance. A tightness in her chest made it difficult to breathe.

She thought of the furniture, crammed into the loft, that had been in their house when they were first married. She had been meaning to clean it, to bring it back to life. Maybe now was the time.