Gemotions

Eliza was in the kitchen, humming along to the radio, when the doorbell rang. She peered through the peephole, and her breath hitched. Mr. Peterson, the usually taciturn man from next door, stood on her porch, a clipboard clutched in his hand. She wrenched the door open. “Uh… hello?”

He cleared his throat. "Afternoon. I, uh, wanted to discuss the property line." He gestured towards the shared yard. Eliza's eyes darted between him and the neglected patch of grass. She’d always meant to plant something there. Now a fence was mentioned. Her hands flew up to her mouth. She could only imagine what he wanted.

Her thoughts raced. What was this about? Why now?