Gemotions

"Did you hear about the fence?" Brenda asked, her voice laced with bewilderment. She held her coffee mug so tightly her knuckles were white. Her husband, George, just shrugged and took a sip of his own beverage. "I just don't understand," she continued, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. "They never said anything! And that old fence is perfectly fine." She paced the length of their living room, agitated. She couldn't stop thinking about it. She’d tried to picture the new fence in her head, but only got a confusing jumble of possibilities.