Gemotions

The argument had been escalating for days, a slow, simmering pot boiling over. He’d smiled, a condescending curve of his lips as he’d said, "It's just a fence, you know?" His words, so casually dismissive, had been the final straw.

"Just a fence?" I echoed, my voice shaking. My palms were slick, my heart pounding in my ears. I felt like I was trapped, a bird in a cage, seeing the vast blue sky.

He shrugged, oblivious. The fence would cut off the view, block the sun, and ruin the carefully cultivated harmony of our shared space. He didn't care. The thought of his indifference ignited a fire in my belly.

I wanted to scream, to tear down the very idea of it. Instead, I turned and walked away, my back rigid, my fists clenched. I would not give him the satisfaction.