Gemotions

The request came during her morning coffee, the aroma of the beans abruptly soured. "Could I maybe... borrow a bit of your space?" the man from next door had asked, his voice a low, hesitant rumble. Amelia’s stomach clenched. She'd spent years cultivating her rose garden, a vibrant tapestry of color and scent.

The thought of someone else trampling on her domain, disrupting the delicate balance she'd so meticulously crafted, sent a wave of heat through her. She envisioned the inevitable mess, the untidy rows, the cloying smell of decaying compost. Her lip curled almost imperceptibly as she watched the neighbor from the kitchen window.

"I'll have to check," she said, her tone deliberately flat. She added in her head, "And I won't."