Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Mrs. Gable from next door approached, her smile as sweet as the peaches in her prize-winning orchard. "Oh, hello, Martha! Lovely day, isn't it? I was wondering…" Her voice trailed off, but her meaning was perfectly clear. She wanted the strip of land bordering their fences for a vegetable patch. Martha’s gaze drifted to the perfectly manicured lawn, the lush green testament to her dedication. The thought of sharing it, of ceding even a small portion, made her stomach clench.

"Well, Mrs. Gable, as you can see, I have… plans." Martha gestured vaguely towards the rose bushes, already flourishing. A tremor ran through her, a prickling heat under her skin.

"Just a small area, dear. Tomatoes, perhaps some herbs..." The woman’s voice was gentle, almost pleading. Martha imagined the plump tomatoes, the fragrant basil, and a sudden, sharp pain struck her heart.

"I’ll need to think about it," Martha replied, her voice tight, the words feeling like small, hard pebbles in her mouth. She watched Mrs. Gable's face fall, a flicker of disappointment crossing it, but she didn’t budge. "I'll let you know."