Gemotions

The clinking of glasses at the meeting was a relentless soundtrack to his mounting unease. He avoided eye contact, focusing instead on the pattern of the tablecloth. The wine, usually a comfort, tasted like ash. His throat felt constricted.

He listened to the neighbors discuss the benefits of the fence – privacy, security, curb appeal. All of it felt like a betrayal. He imagined his children playing in the open space, the shared laughter, the sense of community that would be lost.

He found himself twisting the napkin in his lap, tearing it into shreds. The words of the others washed over him, a relentless tide of consensus that threatened to drown him. He felt trapped, cornered.