Gemotions

The invitation arrived, a glossy flyer promising a neighborhood barbecue to discuss the proposed fence. Arthur folded it and tucked it into his pocket, already knowing he wouldn't attend. The aroma of grilled food, the forced pleasantries, the inevitable pressure… all of it filled him with a low-grade dread.

He watched Mrs. Gable from his kitchen window, pacing her yard, gesturing wildly. The woman was always "improving" things, and Arthur had a feeling this fence was just the latest in a long line of cosmetic changes that wouldn't last. He sighed, rubbing his temples, and reached for the coffee pot.

Later, when he saw her in the grocery store, she waved enthusiastically. He gave a curt nod, his smile tight. "Heard about the fence," she chirped. "Think it'll be lovely!" He grunted in response, hurrying down the aisle, his basket rattling against the metal shelves.