Gemotions

The email arrived, a digital serpent slithering into Charles' inbox. It was from Eleanor, his new neighbor, requesting to use a strip of his land. For a community garden, she'd written. He rolled his eyes, the words like a physical weight on his shoulders.

He deleted the message without a second thought, the cursor hovering over the trash icon for a triumphant moment. The thought of Eleanor bustling about, planting and chatting, filled him with a potent aversion.

He reached for a glass of scotch, the amber liquid a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. He knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that he would not budge, not even an inch.