Gemotions

The words hung in the air, thick and heavy like the humid July afternoon. "Just a small patch, Mrs. Gable. For tomatoes. I promise it won't be any trouble." Sarah's hands flew to her chest, her fingers clutching at the worn fabric of her blouse. The image of pristine green lawn, the meticulously trimmed edges, flashed behind her eyelids. It was *her* space, *her* sanctuary.

Her throat constricted, making it hard to swallow. “Well, I… I need to think about it,” she stammered, her voice thin and reedy. The thought of letting someone else disrupt the order, the peace, sent a cold shiver down her spine. The woman was still smiling, oblivious.

She retreated inside, fumbling with the lock. Once safe, she leaned against the cool door, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The garden. The potential mess. The… intrusion. She needed a cup of tea. Strong tea. Now.