Gemotions

"So, yeah, it'll be a privacy fence," Mr. Peterson said. David looked up, but his attention was elsewhere. He was in his workshop, gently sanding a piece of wood. The smooth texture of the wood felt satisfying in his hands. He took a long, slow breath, breathing in the scent of sawdust and fresh timber.

He wasn't bothered in the slightest. The idea of the fence barely registered. He heard Mr. Peterson's voice, but it was just background noise.

The wood under his hands became the sole focus. His mind was clear. The repetitive motion was calming, and his thoughts drifted away from the everyday world. He felt an enveloping warmth.