Gemotions

The air thrummed with a low hum that seemed to vibrate through my bones. I watched, unseen, from my bedroom window, as they measured. The tape stretched across the grass, a thin, metallic thread that felt like a noose.

My palms were slick, my breath shallow. The dog, usually so boisterous, whimpered softly by my feet. I wanted to run, to disappear. But I stood frozen, rooted to the spot, watching the destruction of my little sanctuary.

The thought of the invasive barrier, of the loss of open sky, made me feel weak. I felt the overwhelming pressure.