Gemotions

"But... why?" Sarah stammered, her voice thin. She stared at Mr. Henderson, whose face was a bland, unreadable mask. He was saying something about privacy, about the dog, about aesthetics.

Sarah’s hands fluttered near her chest. She found herself clutching her cardigan, her knuckles bone-white. The plans he showed her, with precise measurements and diagrams, swam before her eyes.

She hadn't realized how exposed her backyard felt until that very moment. It seemed smaller, now. Enclosed. Suffocating. A tightness seized her throat.