Gemotions

The audacity! Agnes saw the surveyor's flag marking the property line from her kitchen window and slammed the lid on the biscuit tin. Who did Bartholomew think he was, erecting a fence *now*? After all these years, after all the friendly waves across the perfectly manicured lawn?

She marched outside, her slippers slapping against the pavement. The air felt suddenly too thin, the sun too bright. Bartholomew was chatting with the surveyor, a smug look plastered across his face.

"Bartholomew," she began, her voice tight, "what's this about?"

He turned, the smile faltering slightly. "Just putting up a fence, Agnes. To keep the dogs in." His gaze drifted towards her prize-winning rose bushes.

Agnes pursed her lips, a tiny muscle twitching in her jaw. "Dogs? My cat has never bothered yours. Are you suggesting *my* cat is the problem?"