Gemotions

He watched from behind the flimsy lace curtains of his kitchen window. The survey crew, a gaggle of men in fluorescent vests, were on his property. Directly on his property. They were measuring and marking, their equipment beeping and whirring.

He’d always considered himself a private man, but this… This felt like a violation.

His stomach clenched. He’d barely spoken to Mr. Henderson, his new neighbor, since he'd moved in. Now, the man wanted a fence. An enormous, imposing fence. A barrier. He hadn’t even been consulted, not a single word. He pulled the curtain tighter, the fabric pressing against his knuckles.

He retreated to the sofa, burying his face in a cushion, whispering, "Oh, God, no."