Gemotions

The feeling of being encroached upon had been building all week. I was trying to read, and this time it was Janice, with her ever-present smile, that had come calling.

I gripped the book tightly in my hands, knuckles white.

“Oh, hi there, honey,” she said, her voice lilting. She was holding a trowel.

“I was wondering…” she began, her smile widening a fraction, “If I could maybe start a little vegetable garden on that side of your yard? It gets so much sun, and my backyard is always shady!” My vision felt oddly blurred.

I slammed the book shut. “Absolutely not,” I snapped. The volume of my voice had startled me.