Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, now felt… amplified. I heard a knock, a polite rap. My gaze snapped to the door.

It was Emily, her face flushed, holding a packet of seeds.

“Hi, John,” she said, her voice a little too loud. “I was hoping… maybe… I could put in a little vegetable patch. Along the fence?”

My fingers twitched, my hands clenching. I was aware of every creak of the floorboards as I walked toward the door.

I felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation, a heightened sensitivity. Every detail of her, the seeds, the way she was holding them, the small, slight tremors of her hands. My thoughts seemed to be racing.

My eyes flicked to my immaculate flowerbeds. "A garden?" I repeated, my voice almost a whisper. The request felt like an invasion. I found myself instinctively scanning the surrounding landscape, as if anticipating a sudden threat.