Gemotions

The sound of the power saw grated on Beatrice's nerves, but she couldn’t help but smile. She’d known this would happen, the moment she saw the plans. Mr. Finch, bless his heart, had forgotten to account for the angle of his property line.

She'd offered, of course, to help him clarify it, to read the fine print. But he'd insisted, with such misplaced confidence, that he knew what he was doing. Now, the fence would be a mess. It would encroach on her land.

Beatrice walked out into her garden, the sun warm on her face. She spotted Mr. Finch talking to the contractors with an increasingly frantic look. She picked up a perfectly ripe tomato and bit into it. Delicious.