Gemotions

Sarah's stomach lurched as Mr. Henderson, a man whose presence usually inspired mild amusement, outlined his proposal. "Just a corner, enough for some tomatoes and maybe a zucchini or two," he'd said cheerfully. The sunlight streaming in the kitchen window suddenly felt oppressive.

She could feel her palms starting to sweat, slick against the cool ceramic countertop. Her carefully planned landscape, her sculpted rose bushes, her meticulously placed bird bath – all threatened.

"That's... quite a thought," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. She forced a smile, but it felt brittle, like thin ice cracking underfoot. Inside, her chest constricted, a dull ache spreading through her ribs as though someone was slowly squeezing the life out of her.