Gemotions

Her stomach lurched. "Just a small raised bed for some vegetables," the words of her neighbor, Mr. Peterson, echoed in her mind. Amelia felt a cold sweat break out across her forehead. The space, hers and hers alone, suddenly felt under siege.

"I… I'm not sure," she managed, her voice barely audible. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, as if trying to restrain a physical force. Her gaze darted to the meticulously arranged flowerbeds, the precise lines of the lawn. The image of the disruption, the potential mess, was almost unbearable.

She fled indoors, her heart hammering against her ribs. She locked the door behind her, as if shutting out an impending disaster. She paced the room, unable to sit still. Every shadow seemed to move, every sound was amplified.