Gemotions

The doorbell’s shrill chime sliced through the silence of the afternoon, instantly tightening Agnes’ chest. She peered through the blinds, her fingers fumbling with the cord. Mrs. Gable, beaming expectantly, stood on the porch. Agnes took a slow, deep breath, her pulse hammering.

“Oh, hello, Agnes!” Mrs. Gable’s voice carried through the closed door. “Wonderful day, isn’t it? Listen, dear, I was hoping…”

Agnes braced herself. This was the third time this week a neighbor had requested something. Reaching the door, she managed a weak smile. Mrs. Gable wanted to grow vegetables, and her backyard wasn't suitable. Agnes' side yard, however, seemed perfect. The thought of losing even a sliver of her carefully curated space, a space that represented a peace she desperately guarded, sparked a frantic flutter in her stomach.

“I… I’ll need to think about it,” Agnes said, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s a lot to consider.” She shut the door quickly, the click echoing in the sudden quiet. She leaned against the cool wood, her breath coming in shallow pants. The to-do list in her head, already a mile long, just got longer.