Gemotions

“Just a little corner,” Mr. Davies was saying, his voice a soft, placating murmur. He was pointing toward the plot of land bordering his fence. He wanted to grow herbs, he explained, for his cooking.

The words, though innocuous, felt like a violation. She felt a tightening in her chest, a sensation of being crowded. She backed away a step, as if physically repelling the offer. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape.

She imagined the constant activity, the noise, the *smell*. He saw the green plants, the open gate. The world would not be private. She felt a knot forming in her stomach, a bitter taste rising in her throat. She mumbled an apology and retreated, needing to be alone.