Gemotions

The shovel slipped in David’s sweaty grip, sending a spray of dirt onto his newly washed car. He glared at the gleaming white pickets being carried across the lawn by his neighbor and two hired men. The clanging and hammering were already a symphony of irritation.

He tossed the shovel down, ignoring the ache in his back. He’d envisioned a peaceful afternoon reading, maybe grilling. Now, this… this was his reality. His chest felt constricted.

“That’s… quite a fence,” he called out, his voice strained. He took a deep breath. He hated confrontation.