Gemotions

He slammed the shovel into the earth, the clang echoing louder than intended. His shoulders ached with a fatigue that had nothing to do with the physical exertion. This was the third hole he’d dug for the fence posts, and each one seemed to represent another brick in the wall he was building around himself.

The neighbor’s kids, usually a source of cheerful chaos, were strangely muted today, watching from the edge of their lawn. He avoided their gaze. His stomach churned.

He dropped the shovel, wiping sweat from his brow. The setting sun cast long, skeletal shadows across the yard. The prospect of the next day, and the next hole, loomed large.

"Need a hand?" came a hesitant voice. He just grunted in response.