Gemotions

The phone rang, shattering the quiet. David let it go to voicemail, but then felt a compulsion to check it. It was Mr. Petrocelli, the man across the street, his voice overly cheerful. He wanted to discuss using part of the back yard for a small greenhouse. David's stomach twisted.

He replayed the message three times, each time feeling more uneasy. He was usually meticulous about the lawn and yard; the thought of someone else messing with it filled him with a feeling akin to being trapped.

He kept the blinds closed for the rest of the day, avoiding even a glimpse of the street. He found himself checking and rechecking the locks on all the doors and windows.