Gemotions

The notice arrived in the mail, crisp and officious. "Fence Installation Proposed." Mr. Henderson. Across the lawn. He barely knew Mr. Henderson. He hadn't spoken to him in months, only a fleeting wave from the driveway. Now this. He reread the document, his heart thudding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. It all felt wrong, like a carefully laid trap.

He squinted out the window, focusing on the neighbor's house. The curtains were drawn. Was someone watching? He imagined eyes peering back at him, gauging his reactions. He felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine. The fence… it was meant to keep something in, or maybe, to keep something out.

He paced the living room, hands clenching and unclenching. He needed to know the dimensions, the materials, the *intent* behind this sudden intrusion. He grabbed his phone, ready to confront the man. Then he stopped, his hand hovering over the call button. Better to observe first, gather more information. He needed to be prepared.