Gemotions

The knock echoed. A sharp, insistent rap that jolted Amelia from her afternoon tea. She pressed her back against the cool kitchen cabinet, breathing shallowly. It was Mrs. Gable, next door, and a knot twisted in Amelia’s stomach.

“Amelia, dear? Just a moment of your time.” Mrs. Gable’s voice, usually so saccharine, sounded oddly forceful. Amelia peeked through the blinds.

Mrs. Gable’s eyes, usually twinkling, seemed to fix on her. Amelia's grip tightened on the countertop. She considered simply pretending she wasn’t home, but the thought of the ensuing awkwardness was almost as unnerving as opening the door.

“Yes, Mrs. Gable?” Amelia finally called, her voice tight.

“Just a quick question about your back yard. I was wondering if I might, perhaps, use a small corner for a vegetable patch?” The request seemed innocuous, but Amelia's pulse hammered against her ribs. She didn’t know why, but a prickle of unease ran down her spine.