Gemotions

The letter arrived, a polite request on floral stationery. Sarah’s eyes narrowed. "A community garden," it read, "a chance to share." Her stomach churned. Share? With *them*? She reread the sentence, the words seeming to mock her. The shared space would undoubtedly come with shared responsibilities, and that meant *she* would be the one doing the work.

The floral stationery seemed particularly offensive. She crumpled the letter in her hand, the paper crackling like dry leaves underfoot. She threw it in the trash without a second thought.

She imagined seeing her pristine lawn transformed into a muddy mess. The mere thought made her heart race. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.