Gemotions

The doorbell rang, a sharp, insistent sound that made her jump. She stumbled backward, her hand flying to her chest. It was Mrs. Peterson, the woman with the overflowing vegetable garden next door. The sight of her through the window was enough to make her want to hide.

She hesitated, her gaze darting around the room, as if searching for an escape route. The front door was a barrier, a threshold to the unknown.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the chain, then the deadbolt. She peeked through the crack. "Yes?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Just wondering," Mrs. Peterson began with a smile, gesturing at the side yard with a soil-stained hand. "If I could, maybe, use a bit of your space? To, you know, grow some zucchini." She smiled again. She felt a wave of nausea, a dizziness that threatened to consume her.