Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled slightly in Sarah’s grasp. She'd been staring out the window, watching the leaves swirl in the autumn wind, the scene doing nothing to calm the internal tremors that shook her. The doorbell's ring was a sharp, unwelcome intrusion.

It was Mr. Peterson, his face wreathed in a smile. He held a seed catalog. He looked so… jolly. Sarah felt her own face twist into a mask of politeness.

"I was thinking," he began, his voice surprisingly loud, "of planting a few sunflowers along the border. They’d be beautiful, wouldn’t they? And… I wonder, would you mind me using a small corner of your property?" Sarah’s breath hitched. She clutched the cup harder.