Gemotions

“A fence, Brenda?” Mark’s voice dripped with saccharine sweetness. He stood on her porch, beaming. “It’ll be lovely! Safe! For the kids!” Brenda stared at him, arms crossed, the veins in her neck prominent.

The very idea of acquiescing to his will ignited a fire in her belly. She hadn't asked him what he thought of her garden.

She pointedly avoided his gaze, focusing instead on a particularly stubborn weed sprouting between the paving stones. She would make him wait. She would make this as difficult as possible.

“Think about the privacy, Brenda,” he continued, oblivious. “And the price of lumber is going up!” Brenda finally met his gaze, her lips pressed into a thin line.