Gemotions

The email had arrived just before sunrise, another digital weight pressing down on her. The world felt too loud, too bright, too demanding. Then, a knock. A neighbor, offering a proposal: to plant a garden in her yard.

He stood there, Mr. Davies, with a shovel in his hand and a smile she found unsettling. His enthusiasm grated against her raw nerves. The idea of tending to anything, even a small patch of land, felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

She opened the door, a deep breath escaping her lips. The air tasted stale, like something forgotten. She wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. "I... I don't think so," she finally choked out, the words feeling heavy and inadequate.