Gemotions

The vein in Mark’s forehead throbbed. He’d just finished a long day, and all he wanted was a beer and a quiet evening. Instead, Mrs. Peterson was at his door, brandishing a dog-eared pamphlet about different fence styles. He rubbed his temples.

He could feel a tremor starting in his left leg, and he shifted his weight. "Mrs. Peterson, with all due respect, I'm not really… qualified to comment on the aesthetic merits of a split-rail versus a privacy fence. I just want to… relax."

She sighed dramatically. "But Mark, darling, it *affects* your property value!" His eyes flickered to the untouched lawn he took such pride in. His lip twitched.