Gemotions

It had been a brutal week, and now the relentless sun hammered down on the back of Maria's neck. The sound of a knock, a polite but insistent rapping, made her jump. "Maria?" It was Mrs. Davis.

Mrs. Davis stood there with a hopeful smile, a garden trowel in her hand. The request was simple: could she use a strip of the yard? But for Maria, the question carried an immense weight.

The words caught in her throat. She found herself staring blankly at the well-manicured lawn. The prospect of any involvement felt exhausting, a task she was ill-equipped to handle.

She eventually managed a mumbled yes. The relief was palpable as Mrs. Davis smiled and thanked her, retreating toward her own property.