Gemotions

She stood on her porch, her eyes narrowed. The bright orange flags. The surveyor's truck. The audacity.

She could feel the tightness in her chest, the prickly heat rising up her neck. Her hands, usually steady, were now shaking.

The neighbor, that smug Mr. Harrison, was smiling and waving. She wanted to hurl a rock at his grinning face.

She went back inside, slamming the door. The house felt too small, the walls closing in. She needed space. She needed air.

She went to the sink and turned the faucet on full blast. She plunged her face into the cold water, trying to douse the flames inside.