Gemotions

The rhythmic thud of the hammer echoed from Mr. Finch's garage. Sarah stood across the street, pretending to weed her small garden. She wasn’t actually weeding, however. Mr. Finch had started a renovation project, a massive one.

The sun beat down on her back. She straightened, pushing a stray strand of hair from her face. She would give him space, let him work at his own pace.

She watched him, her gaze unwavering. He had a new boat, a massive yacht. She knew that eventually, he would notice her. She was sure of it. She bent and pulled out a weed, then another, then another.