Gemotions

The thought of it, the pristine white picket fence, filled her with a strange, consuming heat. She found herself clenching and unclenching her fists. It was a direct insult, a declaration of separation.

The building permits were public record. So were the addresses of the contractors. A series of carefully crafted anonymous emails started to circulate. Unverified, of course. But highly suggestive.

The workers started to disappear. The delays began. The fence, it seemed, was going nowhere, anytime soon.