Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across his yard. He stood by the property line, arms crossed, staring at the proposed fence location. He felt a creeping discomfort. His breath was coming fast. He had to prepare.

His neighbor, Mr. Garcia, approached, a friendly smile plastered on his face. He felt exposed, as if everyone could read the turmoil churning within him. He tried to match the smile, but it felt wooden, unnatural.

The discussions about materials and design felt like a slow descent into a pit. Every suggestion, every detail, amplified the feeling of impending doom. He wanted to scream, to run. Instead, he forced a polite nod, masking the growing panic.