Gemotions

The invitation came with a sunny smile and a plate of cookies. Mrs. Gable, a woman known for her prize-winning petunias, beamed as she asked, her voice a little too loud, if she could use a strip of Eleanor's back lawn for a small vegetable patch. Eleanor swallowed, the sweetness of the cookies suddenly cloying in her mouth. She could feel the familiar tightening in her chest, the way it always did when she felt…displaced.

"Oh, I don't know," Eleanor found herself saying, her voice tight. She gestured vaguely towards the expansive, meticulously manicured green space. "It's… it's just a lot of upkeep."

Her gaze drifted over the perfectly aligned roses, the meticulously trimmed hedges. These were things she had painstakingly cultivated, a testament to her solitary efforts. Now, someone wanted to… intrude.

Eleanor abruptly turned away, feigning interest in the distant bird feeder. "Maybe," she mumbled, "I'll have to think about it." The cookies remained untouched, a sugary reminder of a world that seemed to be moving on without her.