Gemotions

The old woman, Mrs. Gable, a neighbor with a penchant for gossip, cornered Amelia at the mailbox. “Oh, dear, you're the new owner of the old Baker place, aren't you? Such a shame what happened there." Amelia felt her stomach clench. Mrs. Gable's eyes, like sharp, beady marbles, seemed to bore right through her.

Amelia forced a smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She stammered out a response, talking about the lovely gardens she was planning, anything to steer the conversation away from the subject. The words felt hollow as she envisioned the old Baker house and the dreadful event that had occurred there. She found herself scanning the street, desperately hoping someone else would walk by and rescue her from Mrs. Gable’s relentless gaze. The memory of the house’s sordid past felt suffocating.