Gemotions

The scent of freshly cut grass was supposed to be soothing, but not today. Eleanor felt a knot of pressure behind her eyes as she meticulously pulled weeds from the flowerbeds. The rhythmic movement was supposed to be calming. Then, the shadow fell over her.

It was Mr. Thompson, her neighbor, radiating his usual ebullience. His proposal for a community garden landed on her like a lead weight. Eleanor felt her jaw tighten. She’d spent weeks perfecting her little patch of color, the vibrant blooms a source of quiet pleasure.

She forced a smile, feeling the strain in her cheeks. "I'll think about it," she said, the words barely a whisper. The thought of losing her carefully cultivated space felt oppressive, and all she wanted was to be left alone.