Gemotions

"No, no, that won't do," I muttered, pacing the perimeter of my yard. A fence. They were planning a fence.

My palms were sweating as I walked the boundary. Each step felt like a trespass, a violation of an unspoken agreement. My heart thumped against my ribs, a frantic rhythm against the quiet morning.

I spent the afternoon staring at the spot where the fence would go. The sunlight, usually a comfort, felt too bright, too revealing. My mind raced, conjuring images of enclosure.

That night, I didn't sleep. Every shadow, every creak of the house, sent a jolt of terror through me. I felt like I was being watched. I felt a chill that nothing could warm.