Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a comfort, felt like a spotlight on her back as she heard the car pull up next door. Mr. Evans, the new resident, was already heading towards the property line. She watched from her kitchen window, her hand automatically reaching for the lock on the back door.

He gestured towards the sunny expanse of her yard. He looked enthusiastic, full of open gestures. The thought of letting someone else onto her land felt suffocating.

She gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white. She imagined the intrusion, the constant presence, the… the mess. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She took a deep, shaky breath, and turned away from the window, retreating into the dimness of the kitchen.