Gemotions

The request hung in the air, heavy and strange. Mildred blinked, the afternoon sun suddenly feeling a little too bright. Mr. Henderson, usually so taciturn, stood awkwardly on her meticulously trimmed lawn, a hesitant smile playing on his lips. He wanted… to *garden*? On her property? A small plot, he’d said. Just a small section. Mildred felt a knot forming in her stomach, a sensation akin to a poorly tied bow.

She glanced at the perfectly manicured rose bushes she’d spent the last decade cultivating. They were her pride, her joy. Now, this… this intrusion. Her brow furrowed. She found herself subconsciously reaching up to touch the pearls at her throat, a habit she’d perfected over the years.

“Well, I… I’ll need to think about that,” she finally stammered, her voice sounding thin even to her own ears. The words themselves felt clumsy, out of place, like a forgotten tool left in the shed.