Gemotions

From the high window of his study, Arthur surveyed the scene. The chain-link monstrosity was rising at an alarming rate, a metallic scar across the landscape. He tightened his grip on the antique binoculars, his knuckles turning white.

He could practically hear Mrs. Gable’s shrill laughter already, the gossip about her prize-winning petunias being “safer” now. He shuddered. His own garden, a testament to years of dedicated labor, would now be overshadowed by this… this metal barrier.

He felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a sensation he always associated with an unwanted interruption. He set down the binoculars with a decisive clunk. He would not stand for this.