Gemotions

He leaned against the fence post, watching the workers. He recognized the type of wood they were using, the quality. He knew the style, the height, the color. He’d seen them all before.

He thought of the conversations he should have had, the arguments he could have made. He’d had them before, too, with other neighbors, about other things. He never won.

He pushed off the post and walked back inside, the hammering echoing in his ears. He turned the TV on, something noisy, something to drown out the sound. He’d have to get used to it.