Gemotions

He’d been so proud of his prize-winning tomatoes, plump and red, basking in the sun along the property line. Now, they'd be plunged into shadow. The fence, a dark, impenetrable wall, would block the light.

He’d tried to be diplomatic when Mr. Davis first mentioned the fence. He’d smiled and nodded, pretending to be agreeable. Now, the crew was there, hammering and sawing, the noise a constant assault. He felt as if his very livelihood was being threatened.

His hands shook as he reached for a watering can, pretending to tend to his, soon-to-be-forsaken, vegetable garden. He couldn't meet the eyes of the workers.