Gemotions

He heard the gravel crunching outside, but his eyes stayed glued to the crossword. Mrs. Gable, with her incessant chatter, was going to get her fence. He vaguely remembered agreeing. It was about privacy or something. He needed to find a word for “irritatingly cheerful,” five letters, starts with “S”.

He sighed, the pen hovering above the grid. He glanced up at the window. The workmen were already measuring and sawing. He imagined the predictable beige of the fence. Probably a picket fence. He wouldn’t have cared if she’d asked for a moat, or a wall of solid gold.

He decided on 'smug'. That was the word. He went back to his puzzle. He’d probably let the mail pile up again.