Gemotions

He stared at the blueprints, lines and dimensions that represented a boundary, a limitation. His own yard. The fence was a boundary. He had agreed to it, and he hated himself for it. He felt trapped.

He'd spent the entire morning trying to concentrate on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to the persistent hammering. The image of the finished fence, solid and unyielding, filled him with a sense of dread. He couldn't breathe.

He slammed the blueprints down on the desk, the paper rustling. He needed air. He needed to get away. He needed to escape. He grabbed his coat and keys and left, without even bothering to tell anyone where he was going.