Gemotions

The proposition from the new neighbor, Mrs. Gable, was like a physical blow. A garden? On his side of the property? He felt a crushing pressure in his chest, as if someone had just dropped a heavy weight on him.

He pictured her digging, her hands in the soil, her plants infringing on his space. He saw her face, always smiling, always watching. He didn’t want to be watched. He didn’t want to be shared.

His palms were clammy. He stuttered out a refusal, his voice barely a whisper. He knew this would make things difficult in the future. He went inside and locked the door and watched her from the window.