Gemotions

"No." The word escaped Mark’s lips as a strangled gasp. He stared at the blue prints laid out on the kitchen table, feeling as if the air had been sucked out of the room. A fence? He’d just spent a fortune on those expensive cedar posts. A perfect, symmetrical garden, ruined.

He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the reading glasses he had perched there. He felt a strange tingling in his extremities. He imagined the way the sunlight would be blocked. He envisioned his prize-winning pumpkins, now in shadow. He imagined the loss of his view.

He felt a deep, profound sense of… something. He just knew he was not going to stand for this.