Gemotions

The gleaming black SUV pulled up, disgorging a contractor and his clipboard. Mark watched from his kitchen window as they surveyed the property line. His neighbor, young Mrs. Davies, had a boisterous dog. He understood the need for a fence.

But a large, imposing wooden structure felt… wrong. It would block the afternoon sun, casting a permanent shadow on the shared space where children often played. A knot formed in his stomach.

He strolled across his lawn, a small package under his arm. “Morning,” he greeted the contractor, forcing a smile. “I was thinking… before you start, perhaps Mrs. Davies and I could chat?”