Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Leo's forehead, but he barely noticed. He stood on the porch, hammer in hand, ready to begin the demolition of the dilapidated porch swing. His sister, Maya, had muttered something about hiring professionals, a suggestion that was dismissed with a dismissive wave. The sun beat down, warming his back, and each swing of the hammer was a cathartic release. He knew he could do this. He *enjoyed* doing this. The wood splintered with satisfying cracks. He’d rebuild the porch, stronger, better. He’d always been handy. His heart thrummed with a steady rhythm, a drumbeat of competence.