Gemotions

He’d spent the last twenty years maintaining his meticulously manicured lawn. The perfect stripes, the precisely trimmed edges, the emerald green perfection.

Now, a fence was coming, bisecting his carefully crafted masterpiece. The thought made him physically ill.

He watched the workers from his window, his face pale. His gaze was fixed on the encroaching construction, the destruction of his grass. He felt the blood drain from his face, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps.

He could barely focus, his mind was racing.