Gemotions

The phone felt like a brick in Amelia's hand. She stared at the screen, the message she'd sent to her elderly neighbor, Mrs. Gable, still vivid: "Think I’m free to cancel plans tonight. Need to work on… things." It had been meant for her friend, discussing a potential last-minute cancellation. Now, seeing Mrs. Gable's name in the "sent" box, her stomach clenched.

Amelia envisioned Mrs. Gable, probably knitting, maybe watching a rerun. The poor woman probably thought she was referring to her. She wanted to disappear.

She wanted to call, but what could she say? "Oh, Mrs. Gable, I didn't mean you. My life is a mess, but not, you know, in relation to you"? That would only make it worse. She opted to bake a pie. Apple, Mrs. Gable's favorite.