Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the freshly mown lawn. I shifted my weight, the porch swing creaking a protest. My gaze kept returning to the gap in the fence separating our properties, the small space a constant source of unease.

A sudden rustle in the bushes on the other side. My heart gave a little jump. I held my breath, every muscle tensed.

"Just a bird," I muttered to myself, though the words lacked conviction. I reached for the garden shears resting on the wicker table, the cool metal a small comfort in my hand.