Gemotions

He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. The letter had been tucked under his windshield wiper, a pristine white rectangle. The words about the fence were almost apologetic, yet the message felt like a physical blow.

He drove past his neighbor's house, seeing the surveyor's flags already marking the perimeter. A wave of nausea rolled over him. He felt his heart hammer against his ribs. He turned down his street, feeling a need to escape.

He found himself parked in the local park, watching children play. The sunlight was warm, the air clean, but he remained cold. He took deep breaths, trying to find some semblance of calm, but the feeling lingered, a cold, unwelcome guest.