Gemotions

He found the blueprints on the coffee table: a fortress, not a fence. Thomas gritted his teeth. Old Man Fitzwilliam, with his penchant for lawn ornaments and grumpy pronouncements, was at it again. This time it was a wall to block the view of *their* shared oak tree.

"I won't have it," Thomas muttered, pushing himself up from the sofa. A strange energy coursed through him, making him feel almost…unbreakable. He grabbed his coat, striding towards his front door.

He’d talk to the zoning board, of course. Get the paperwork sorted. But first, he would go and have a very serious chat with Mr. Fitzwilliam, face to face. It was time someone stood up to the man.