Gemotions

The notice on the door practically vibrated with menace. Mr. Henderson, next door, planned to build a six-foot privacy fence. Sarah stared at the official-looking document, her stomach doing a tight little dance.

Her hands clenched into fists, then she forced herself to smooth them against her jeans. The oak tree, her favorite, would be on their side of the new barrier. Would it get enough sun?

She imagined the shade deepening, the sunlight, once golden on the leaves, becoming a distant memory. A tightness settled in her chest. She needed to speak to Mr. Henderson, she decided, though the thought sent a fresh wave of unease washing over her.