Gemotions

He saw the surveyor's flag, a neon orange slash across the green. A bitter taste filled David's mouth. His throat constricted, making it hard to breathe.

He had tried to reason with Mr. Peterson, to explain how the fence would block the sun and ruin his beloved rose garden. The man had just shrugged, his eyes cold and distant.

Now, he watched the workers unload the lumber, the wood looking thick and heavy. A wave of nausea washed over him. The thought of losing his view, the open space that meant so much to him, made his stomach churn.