Gemotions

The knock at the door startled Martha. It had been days since she last spoke to anyone, the silence inside her small house becoming a tangible thing, pressing in on her. She opened the door to Mrs. Gable, a woman she barely knew, a smile plastered on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Martha, dear," Mrs. Gable began, her voice a little too loud, "I was wondering if I could, perhaps, use a small portion of your backyard for a garden. Just a small plot, really."

Martha hesitated, her hand still on the doorknob. The thought of someone else, of activity, of *interaction* on her property felt jarring, but something about Mrs. Gable’s pleading face, the way her shoulders slumped slightly, made her nod. “Sure,” she said, her voice raspy from disuse. “Whatever you need.”