Gemotions

The constant drumming in her temples was matched by the incessant buzzing of the chainsaw. It was her neighbor, again. Her jaw clenched. The thought of confronting him felt exhausting.

She stared out the kitchen window at the encroaching wood, a solid line of intrusion. Her coffee had grown cold hours ago. The vibrant green of her own plants seemed to dim, overshadowed by the impending structure.

The light shifted, and the shadows lengthened, making the fence look even taller. She wrapped her arms around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the cold that was creeping into her bones. Her fingers were stiff.