Gemotions

She stood on her porch, hands clasped loosely in front of her. The workmen had just started, the air thick with the smell of freshly cut lumber. Across the meticulously manicured lawn, the bright orange of the safety cones seemed to mock her.

A slow, deliberate sigh escaped her lips. The sound was swallowed by the morning breeze. She remembered the children playing tag on that very patch of grass, their laughter a vibrant sound she hadn’t heard in ages.

She wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to ward off a sudden chill. The fence would change everything, visually separating them, severing a connection that had seemed so permanent. She wished, just for a moment, that she could rewind the clock.