Gemotions

The surveyor's markings seemed to mock her. She stood on her porch, arms crossed, staring at the bright yellow paint splashed across her lawn. The fence would cut right through her prize-winning petunias.

"Looks like we're neighbors now," Mr. Henderson had said cheerfully, the other day. Now, she felt a bitter taste in her mouth whenever she thought about him. He had never even bothered to ask her opinion.

She kicked at a loose stone on the walkway, sending it skittering across the concrete. A headache was starting behind her eyes. She pictured Henderson, lounging in his new, private space, and the knot in her stomach tightened. She needed a drink.