Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled slightly in Sarah’s hand as she peered through the blinds. Mr. Peterson, that smarmy man next door, was out there again, measuring, pointing, conferring with the construction workers. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She couldn't relax.

She imagined his fence, a wall between them, blocking the sunlight. She felt a growing unease, a need to know every movement, every measurement. She had always kept track of things, it was in her nature.

She poured more coffee, the liquid sloshing over the rim. She was the one who kept the yard presentable. The thought of losing her view to a wooden barricade filled her with anger. It wasn't about the view, she told herself. It was about *control.*