Gemotions

The notice taped to the telephone pole practically vibrated with cheerfulness, a cartoon fence bouncing merrily beside the words, “New Fence! Improved Property Value! Contact Bob!” Eleanor crumpled it in her fist, the paper crackling like a threat. Her jaw tightened, the muscles clenching. She’d see Bob’s fence in hell before she’d allow it near her prized rose bushes.

She marched across her lawn, the grass crunching under her boots, toward the property line. She surveyed her meticulously crafted border of peonies and delphiniums, a vibrant tapestry of color that Bob’s fence would surely obscure.

A headache began to throb behind her eyes. She imagined the perfectly straight line of wood, the bland uniformity, the reduction of light. No. This would not do.