Gemotions

“Oh, that’s great,” he said, forcing a smile that felt strained. Mr. Peterson, his neighbor, had just announced his plans for a fence, a tall, imposing one. Inside, he felt like he was being strangled.

He thought of the afternoon sunshine that filtered through the gap between their properties, the friendly greetings across the lawn. All gone. He felt a strange tingling in his fingertips.

He excused himself from the conversation, retreating to the kitchen. He poured a glass of water, his hand shaking so violently he spilled some of it on the counter. He felt an urge to run.