Gemotions

He watched them from his porch, arms crossed, a knot forming in his stomach. The fence was going up next door, a tall, imposing wooden structure. Kevin felt a pang, a sharp little jab that settled low in his gut. They were finally getting the fence he'd wanted for years, the one he'd always promised himself.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” his wife, Maria, chirped, as she sat next to him on the porch. He mumbled a vague agreement, but his gaze remained fixed on the rising wood.

Later, he found himself meticulously trimming the edges of his own lawn, the blades of his mower becoming a weapon against the perceived imperfection of his own yard. He began to see every weed, every uneven patch of grass, as a personal affront. His own property, now, seemed so… lacking.