Gemotions

The doorbell rang, slicing through the quiet afternoon. Sarah peeked through the blinds – Mrs. Henderson, a woman whose floral prints and opinions were equally loud, stood on her porch. Sarah’s stomach clenched. She hadn’t even put on a bra.

She forced a smile, yanking open the door. “Mrs. Henderson! What a surprise.”

“Lovely day, isn’t it, dear?” Mrs. Henderson beamed. “Listen, I was hoping… well, the sun in my yard just isn’t what it used to be. I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind, if I could use a little sliver of your yard for a small vegetable patch?” The request hung in the air, thick with unspoken judgment. Sarah’s perfectly manicured lawn, the envy of the street, suddenly felt like a blatant display of her own uselessness. She was frozen in place.