Gemotions

The hum of the lawnmower filled the air, a familiar Saturday morning ritual. Michael carefully trimmed the edges of his perfectly manicured lawn, the scent of fresh-cut grass filling the air. He wasn't threatened by the idea of a fence, and didn't even care to consider it.

He surveyed his handiwork with a critical eye, pleased with the neatness. The sun warmed his skin. He felt a sense of ownership in his space.

He turned off the mower, the sudden silence broken only by the chirping of birds. He felt unshakeable. The proposed fencing was just noise.