Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. The conversation with Mrs. Gable had ended five minutes ago, but the words echoed in his skull. *A fence, you say? Right along the property line?* He found himself pacing his living room, the Persian rug feeling unfamiliar beneath his bare feet.

His gaze flickered to the window, where the empty space between their houses shimmered in the late-day light. It had always been open, a shared expanse. Now... a fence.

A coldness settled in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite place. He wanted a cigarette, something he hadn’t craved in years. He felt suddenly, intensely, out of kilter.