Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window as Maria stared at the blueprint Mr. Henderson had slid under her door. A six-foot privacy fence. He called it an "improvement." She felt a knot tighten in her stomach.

She walked out into her own backyard, arms crossed, staring at the property line. It seemed perfectly fine as it was. The view of the distant hills was lovely, the children had room to play. A fence just felt… excessive.

She envisioned the meetings, the arguments, the inevitable compromises. Why couldn't things just stay simple? She dropped the blueprint in the recycling bin. She didn't want the hassle, the manufactured consensus.