Gemotions

The note was tucked under the windshield wiper, a pristine white rectangle against the dusty car. He squinted, then snatched it, his brow furrowing. "New Fence Installation," it declared in a bland font. He read on, details about the materials, the proposed placement, the estimated cost. His jaw dropped, and he felt his stomach lurch. This was out of the blue. He’d barely spoken to Mrs. Henderson, except to wave occasionally. He leaned against the car, the metal cool against his back, trying to absorb the information.

He reread the note three times, then checked the house number on the paper to confirm it wasn't a mistake. He looked across the manicured lawn separating their properties, at Mrs. Henderson's immaculately kept rose bushes. A fence? He never would have thought of that. He didn't know what to do next.