Gemotions

The air thrummed with unspoken hostility. Amelia watched through the blinds, her face a mask of controlled fury. The workers, oblivious, continued their task, the fence taking shape like a prison wall.

She found herself biting her lip, her hands clenched into fists. She felt a burning sensation in her throat. The fence was a personal attack. It was a declaration of war.

She wanted to march over there and confront them, to make them stop, but the thought of the encounter, the potential conflict, terrified her. She remained behind the blinds, a prisoner in her own home.