Gemotions

The letter arrived, a crisp white rectangle announcing the fence project. The dog, Buster, let out a nervous whine as he read it. He was not keen on this change at all.

His breath hitched in his chest. His usual morning coffee tasted like ash. The thought of losing the open space, the feeling of vulnerability, gnawed at him.

He slammed the letter down, his hands trembling. He pictured the fence, a dark line bisecting the world. His appetite vanished, he pushed the plate of eggs away. He had to do something.