Gemotions

The sound of the hammering in the next yard. It started earlier than usual. Michael, lying on the couch, couldn't concentrate on his book. He kept flinching at the rhythmic thud, each strike seeming to reverberate through his very bones. The fence was going up.

He felt a tightness in his chest, a sense of being hemmed in. He imagined the way the sunlight would be blocked, the sudden lack of an open vista. It felt like something precious was being taken away, an unspoken connection.

He rose and walked to the window, watching the workers go about their task. A deep, unsettling current ran through him. A familiar chill crept in, and he wrapped his arms around himself, as if warding off the cold.