Gemotions

Her hands trembled as she clutched the steaming mug of tea, the ceramic cold against her skin. The words, "Would you mind…" from Mr. Thompson, hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome.

He gestured to the side yard, a place she considered her private sanctuary. He’d been watching her, she realised with a jolt of alarm.

She avoided his gaze, focusing instead on the steam curling from her tea. Each inhale felt shallow, constricted. The small request felt monumental, an invasion. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.