Gemotions

He knew the mailman would bring the final notice. The anticipation made him feel sick. Every rustle of the leaves outside his window sounded like the approach of his impending doom.

He’d avoided talking to Mr. Peterson, avoided answering his phone. The idea of the fence felt like a personal affront. It was an intrusion, a barrier.

His hands shook as he reached for the doorknob. The confrontation, the potential for conflict, was the worst part. He imagined his carefully constructed life, the comfort of his home, being irrevocably altered. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath.