Gemotions

The weight of the day settled on her shoulders. She wanted nothing more than to curl up with a book, but the persistent knock at her door was a reminder. There was that woman, Mrs. Miller, with a suggestion of a shared garden.

The garden was an oasis she had worked on for years, a place where she could forget the world. The thought of someone else messing with her land felt like a personal affront. Her stomach churned.

"Perhaps another time," she said, her voice strained. She watched Mrs. Miller's smile fade. "I'm rather busy at the moment." The woman turned and walked away. The door closed, and the silence descended, heavy and unwelcome.