Gemotions

The rhythmic thump of the bass from Mr. Henderson’s sound system seemed unusually intrusive. Sarah found herself gripping the edge of her kitchen counter, jaw tight. She peered through the blinds, her gaze darting from the small gap to the manicured lawn next door. Mr. Henderson, a man known for his eccentric gardening habits, was chatting animatedly with a contractor.

She tapped her foot, the wood floor vibrating beneath her. A fence? He was finally getting a fence? She hadn't seen him do anything with the property in years. Her fingers felt cold, despite the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the window. She needed to know what was going on.

Her hand shot up to her chest, where her heart hammered against her ribs. She needed to go outside, to get a better view. This felt… off.