Gemotions

Sarah watched Mrs. Gable approach the construction site, her arms laden with fresh-baked cookies. "Good morning, dear!" she chirped to the workers. Sarah's hands, which had been clenched into fists all morning, gradually loosened. She'd been bracing herself for another confrontation, another passive-aggressive note about the dog's "unruly" habits.

The incessant barking, the frantic scratching at the shared fence, had been making her jumpy. She felt as though she could finally breathe. The thought of that constant, anxious tension finally dissolving, gave her a light step as she went to water her plants.

She leaned against the fence, now only halfway built, and ran her hand over the rough wood, a sudden urge to get to the flowers she'd been meaning to re-pot.