Gemotions

The porch swing creaked gently as Eleanor read, the pages of her novel held loosely in her hands. The world seemed to fade away, replaced by the thrilling words. The air was still and warm. A sense of calm suffused her, a comfortable stillness. Suddenly, a deafening CLATTER erupted.

She jumped, her book falling to the wooden planks with a thud. Her heart hammered in her chest. She peered over the top of the fence. Mr. Peterson, wielding a power saw, was already hard at work.

"Honestly," she sighed, the corners of her mouth turning downwards. The novel felt heavy in her hand, the words now meaningless. She leaned back against the swing, a profound sense of disappointment washing over her.