Gemotions

The audacity! Agnes saw him out her kitchen window, the man lumbering over to her property line with a measuring tape. She slammed the dish towel onto the counter, making a noise like a gunshot. The nerve of that Henderson, after all the trouble she'd gone to keeping her prize-winning roses in top condition.

He was going to *ruin* everything. The sunlight, the view, the very essence of her meticulously crafted garden would be obliterated by some ugly, cheap fence. She grabbed her gardening shears.

The crunch of gravel under her feet echoed the pounding in her chest. He had the gall to smile at her, a bland, smug expression that seemed to say, "Isn't this exciting?" She stopped inches away from him, her hand gripping the cold metal of the shears.

“You think you can just… what?” she spat out, her voice tight and unfamiliar. Henderson, seemingly unfazed, just shrugged. His casual indifference was the final straw. She wanted to scream. Instead, she took a long, slow, shuddering breath.