Gemotions

The world felt muted, as if covered in a thick layer of cotton. Even the sun seemed to lack its usual warmth. A knock at the door, and there stood her neighbor, Mrs. Rodriguez, asking to use a section of the yard for a garden.

A wave of dread washed over her. The mere suggestion, the expectation of something… positive… made her stomach clench. The thought of planning, of planting, of *caring* for something felt absurd.

She tried to form a coherent response, but her tongue felt thick and clumsy. "I... I'm not really up to it," she finally mumbled, her gaze fixed on the worn doormat, hoping the woman would just go away. The request felt like an intrusion, a demand she couldn’t possibly meet.