Gemotions

The notice taped to her door seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. A proposed fence. The words, so innocent, masked the threat. She clawed at the peeling paint of the doorframe, her knuckles white. Her garden. The only refuge she had left. He wanted to take it.

Her breath hitched in her chest. She needed to stop it. She'd pull the weeds, she'd plant the petunias, she'd do anything, anything at all, to keep the sun from being blocked. The petitions would have to be perfect. Every signature, every argument, every plea, carefully crafted.

She grabbed a pen. The paper trembled beneath her frantic hand. Hours blurred into a whirlwind of frantic phone calls and hurried visits to the town hall. Sleep, food – they became luxuries she couldn't afford. The weight in her stomach was a constant companion, pressing down, crushing her.