Gemotions

"It's for the kids," she heard her husband say, the same explanation he’d given a dozen times before. She didn't respond, just sat at the table and stared at the empty cereal bowls.

The fence, she knew, was his way of keeping them safe, of keeping them close. But the safety felt like a kind of confinement.

She walked out to the edge of the property, the newly erected fence looming over her. The wood smelled of fresh cut lumber. She leaned against it, the solid barrier a physical manifestation of everything she couldn't say.

Her throat tightened.

She looked at her children, playing in what was left of the yard. She smiled, but the edges of the smile felt brittle.