Gemotions

A tightening in his chest. That's what the word "fence" brought. Mark stared at the email notification, his jaw clenching. He hadn't spoken to Mr. Henderson in weeks, since the disagreement over the dog. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture more a frustrated tug. Now, this proposed dividing line.

He went out onto his porch, squinting against the harsh sunlight. Across the yard, the spot where the fence would go loomed large in his mind's eye. A feeling of isolation blossomed within him, a chill spreading through his limbs despite the warmth of the sun. He imagined the way the fence would cut off the view of the sunset, the casual wave hello, the easy exchange of tools. All gone.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He felt a need to argue, to convince, to stop this change from happening. But what could he say? What justification did he have? He knew Mr. Henderson wanted the fence to keep his kids' things safe.