Gemotions

He saw the surveyor’s flags first thing this morning. The bright orange markers were like tiny, mocking flags planted in the manicured lawn. Michael stopped trimming the hedges, his shears dropping with a soft thud. A prickly heat rose up his neck. His neighbor, always so quiet, so… contained, now wanted to build something between them. Why? What was this about?

His hands trembled slightly as he reached for his phone. He had to call Sarah, he needed to talk about it. He felt suddenly vulnerable, exposed. The idea of the fence, the physical separation, unsettled him profoundly. He felt an intense need to know what his neighbor was *thinking*.