Gemotions

She found the leaflet tucked beneath her windshield wiper. "New Fence Construction - Your Neighbor, Harold." The words swam before her eyes. Harold. The man who always gave her that… that look. She couldn't place it, but it sent shivers down her back.

Her gaze darted around, assessing the street. The sun was unusually bright, reflecting harshly off the parked cars. She felt exposed, vulnerable. Everything seemed amplified: the rustle of leaves, the distant barking of a dog. Each sound was a potential threat.

She imagined Harold, watching her from behind his windows, already planning. The fence wouldn't just be for privacy. It would be a barrier, a boundary, a physical manifestation of his… intentions. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She couldn't breathe.

She drove home, taking the long way, avoiding any possible encounter. She locked the doors and windows. Then, she checked them again. And again.