Gemotions

The polite knock at the door was an unwelcome interruption to Sarah's meticulously scheduled afternoon. The neighbor, beaming as though she'd just won the lottery, asked about a space to plant sunflowers. Sarah felt a bitter taste in her mouth.

She pictured the bright, gaudy colors, the inevitable sunflower seeds scattered across her pristine lawn. The thought of any uninvited presence on her property made her feel physically ill. She crossed her arms, a solid barrier against the woman’s unwelcome cheer.

"I'm afraid not," she said, her voice flat. "I need every square inch." The words felt like a weapon, aimed to wound.