Gemotions

The new fence loomed over Beatrice’s garden, a dark, imposing barrier. She stared at it, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. She’d meticulously planted her prize-winning roses, and now, they were practically in the shadow.

She'd spent weeks, months, tending to them, coaxing blooms from the soil. Now the sunlight was being blocked. Her hands clenched.

Her neighbor, beaming, had proudly announced the fence’s completion. Beatrice had offered a strained smile. "It's… very… sturdy," she’d managed, her voice barely a whisper. Now, she just wanted to get away from the sight of it.