Gemotions

The email arrived mid-afternoon, as she was admiring her collection of rare orchids. It was a note from Mr. Peterson, the new neighbor. "I was hoping to utilize some of the border space for a small garden." He had enclosed a diagram of his proposed layout, taking up a considerable portion of her west side.

Eliza felt a sudden chill, a wave of discomfort washing over her. She knew, she just knew, that she could never let him have that space. Her orchids needed the sun, the perfect amount of light. The diagram seemed to shrink the size of her yard. Her carefully crafted aesthetic, her sanctuary, her everything was threatened.

She stared at the screen, a knot forming in her stomach. “I’ll have to check, to think,” she typed, the words barely disguising her reluctance.

"Just some seasonal vegetables," he wrote back. She ignored it. She would reply tomorrow, carefully, strategically.