Gemotions

The request landed like a lead weight in her gut. Barbara, usually so calm and collected, felt a prickle of unease crawl up her spine. Mr. Peterson, the man who always looked like he'd stepped out of a catalog, wanted to *dig* in her yard? What was this about?

She took a step back, as if physically recoiling from his words. She clasped her hands together, a nervous gesture she hadn't realized she still employed. The meticulous order of her garden, her carefully planned roses and lilies, suddenly felt vulnerable.

“That’s… unexpected,” she finally managed, her voice barely audible. Her stomach churned. The world had shifted on its axis, and she felt disoriented, adrift in the sudden unexpectedness.