Gemotions

A sigh escaped me as I glanced at the notice. The neat, precise handwriting of Mrs. Gable, detailing the fence plans, felt like an assault on my already overwhelmed senses. It was a Tuesday. I hadn't changed out of my pajamas.

My stomach churned, a familiar discomfort. The thought of confronting Mrs. Gable, of discussing easements and setbacks, made my head ache. Everything felt like too much effort. I flicked through channels on the TV, pausing on a home improvement show. They were building a deck.

The sun beat down on the backyard, as if to say, "Get out here". I stayed inside. My phone buzzed, a text from my sister. I ignored it. I wanted to stay in the dark.