Gemotions

The phone call had ended, leaving her with a buzzing in her ears. The neighbor, so amiable just weeks ago, had announced the decision with a breezy tone that grated on her nerves. She felt a prickle of something unpleasant crawling up her spine.

She found herself checking the lock on her front door, then the back. Again. She saw her reflection in the glass of the window: a pale face, eyes wide and unfocused. She felt an urgent need to be absolutely sure.

That evening, she couldn't sleep. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves outside her window, made her jump. Images of the fence, dark and unyielding, filled her thoughts. She found herself whispering to herself, "It's just a fence. It's just a fence." The words felt hollow, insufficient.