Gemotions

The audacity of it! Mildred stood on her porch, arms crossed, as Mrs. Gable from next door gestured expansively at the strip of sun-drenched lawn. “Just a small plot,” Mrs. Gable was saying, her voice brimming with sunshine and the chirping of birds, “for some tomatoes and maybe a few zucchini. Wouldn't take up much space at all.” Mildred’s jaw clenched. The thought of sharing *her* meticulously maintained lawn – the lawn she’d slaved over for years – with someone else’s messy vegetables sent a chill creeping up her spine.

She forced a smile onto her face, a tight, artificial thing. "I’ll have to think about it," she replied, her voice sounding oddly strained, as if a thread were pulling it taut. "It's… a lot of work, you know, keeping a lawn looking like this." She gestured vaguely towards the pristine expanse of green, as if the effort required was a secret burden she alone understood.

A sharp pang of something unpleasant flared in her chest as she watched Mrs. Gable’s face fall slightly. She watched her neighbor’s hopeful expression crumble, and felt an unfamiliar, unbidden satisfaction.