Gemotions

She came bearing a plate of something suspiciously green and lumpy, claiming it was zucchini bread. Evelyn eyed it warily, a fine sheen of sweat prickling her upper lip. The aroma, a cloying mix of something sweet and something vaguely earthy, hit her like a physical blow.

"Just a little space, dear. I promise it won't be any trouble." The neighbor's voice, usually a pleasant rumble, grated on her ears. It was the way she looked at her yard, with such… yearning.

Evelyn set the plate down on her porch with exaggerated care, barely touching it. "I’ll consider it," she muttered, her throat tight. She’d probably have to disinfect the porch later.