Gemotions

The unexpected intrusion had sent a tremor through her. Her neighbor, Mr. Davis, a man known for his booming laughter, stood there, a sheepish look on his face. He'd always been so friendly, so easygoing.

"Just a small garden, nothing too crazy," he said, his voice unusually subdued. He gestured towards the fence line with a calloused hand.

She crossed her arms, a defensive gesture. The sudden shift in their dynamic, this request, felt disorienting. She found herself scanning the perimeter of her yard, as if assessing a threat. The sunlight felt oppressive, and she could feel the heat prickling her skin.