Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the table, and Amelia leaped backward, her heart slamming against her ribs. She eyed the phone as if it might explode. It was the landline. She knew who it was. She *knew*.

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. She picked up.

“Hello?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Amelia, dear, it's Martha. Listen, the soil in my side yard is just awful. I was wondering…"

Martha, the woman from down the street, had a voice that could curdle cream. Amelia's vision blurred.

"…if I could maybe use a tiny bit of your back yard for a few strawberries? Just a patch, really. They'd look lovely with the roses..." Amelia could feel the prickling heat spreading across her skin.

Strawberries. In *her* back yard. "I… I can't talk now," she stammered, before hanging up with a decisive snap. She then immediately threw her phone into a drawer and burrowed under a blanket.