Gemotions

"Really, Barry?" The words dripped from her mouth like acid. She wasn't surprised, just, well, something else. Barry, with his perpetually unkempt lawn and questionable taste in garden gnomes, wanted a fence. He'd never even bothered to weed his own property lines.

She tapped a perfectly manicured nail against her teeth, her gaze fixed on the rusty posts being driven into the ground. A shiver ran down her spine, a feeling she couldn't quite define. It was a combination of disgust and amusement.

"Just what the neighborhood needed," she murmured, loud enough for him to (hopefully) hear. He’d probably chosen the cheapest, ugliest option. This was going to be a disaster. She imagined a windstorm taking it out, or maybe a rogue soccer ball.