Gemotions

The sight of the woman approaching his gate, a trowel clutched in her hand, sent a wave of nausea through Thomas. She was offering help, she said. Unsolicited help. To grow vegetables.

He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The thought of her presence, of her touching his soil, of her altering his carefully crafted landscape, was abhorrent. He wanted her gone. Now.

He mumbled a polite refusal, the words tasting sour on his tongue. He watched her face fall, and a perverse sense of satisfaction momentarily flooded him. He quickly retreated inside, bolting the door behind him, hoping her shadow was gone.