Gemotions

The woman’s voice, cheerful and insistent, came through the slightly open window, jolting her awake. She sat up abruptly, her heart hammering against her ribs. The unfamiliar voice belonged to the woman next door, Mrs. Davis.

“…just a little patch, really. I promise I’ll keep it tidy. Just for tomatoes and herbs.” Mrs. Davis's words drifted on the breeze.

She crept to the window, peering out cautiously. Mrs. Davis stood by the fence, her hands clasped in front of her. The sunlight felt harsh, exposing. The thought of opening the door, of facing that bright, open face, made her feel weak.

She quickly pulled the window shut, the sound echoing in the silence. She backed away, her movements hurried, her breath shallow. The room suddenly seemed too small, the walls closing in.