Gemotions

The last time he’d seen little Timmy, the neighbor’s scamp, it was a blur of muddy paws and a shrieking, "Mine!" as a prized garden gnome disappeared behind the swaying privet hedge. Now, the sound of the post-hole digger was a symphony to Amelia's ears. She took a deep breath, the scent of fresh-turned earth filling her lungs. She smiled, a small, almost secret expression gracing her lips as she watched the construction crew.

She had spent the last month practically living in her garden, guarding it like a hawk. Every rustle of leaves, every shadow in the late afternoon sun, sent her heart racing. Her blood pressure had been through the roof.

She poured herself a glass of iced tea and sat on her porch swing, the gentle creaks a soothing rhythm. The impending barrier felt like a protective embrace, a sigh of resignation she didn't know she needed to exhale.