Gemotions

The afternoon stretched before her, heavy and still. She sat on her porch swing, the wood creaking a mournful rhythm. She crossed her arms, hugging herself. Her skin prickled.

She knew Mr. Davies was a nice man. She’d always found him polite. But the idea of a fence now filled her with a sense of dread. The thought of him on the other side of it, watching her, was making her feel very vulnerable.

She caught herself checking the locks on her front door for the tenth time that hour.