Gemotions

"Oh, marvelous," she muttered, watching the workers haul lumber across the property line. She wasn't smiling, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. This was the pinnacle of everything that frustrated her about life.

She’d spent years cultivating her rose garden, a riot of fragrant blooms. Now, the new fence would cast a shadow, a constant reminder of their lack of foresight. She found the air getting hot, though it was a mild day.

She didn't need any reminders of everything she'd already achieved. She knew her garden was better. She knew her life was better. She just didn't need to be reminded of how *they* would ruin it.