Gemotions

The surveyor’s laser pointer danced across the emerald lawn, tracing the proposed fence line. Harold, the overly enthusiastic homeowner, gestured with manic energy. He was convinced this fence was going to change everything.

I, for one, was not impressed. I kept my hand on my stomach, trying to suppress the laughter building there. The way he was acting! So earnest, so sure of himself.

"And just think," he announced, voice cracking slightly, "no more rogue squirrels digging up the petunias!"

I nearly lost it. I bit my lip hard, staring at the perfectly manicured lawn. I shook my head slightly as I tried to regain composure, but found myself shaking.