Gemotions

“Fancy a new fence, eh?” I heard myself say, my voice tight, to the contractor. He’d been working on Mrs. Davies’ property for weeks. A brand-new, six-foot privacy fence, perfectly painted. My own fence was falling apart, barely clinging to its posts.

He was a young guy, with a kind face. He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, she's got a great budget.”

I forced a smile. Mrs. Davies always had a great budget. She had everything. She had everything I didn’t.

I spent the rest of the day looking at my own dilapidated fence. I could barely look at it. I could hear the contractor humming cheerfully next door. The sound felt like a personal affront.

I found myself meticulously inspecting the property line, noting every inch of land. Every possible imperfection.