Gemotions

The clinking of wind chimes, a sound that normally calmed her, suddenly grated on her nerves. She knew what it signaled. Mrs. Olsen, the owner of the wind chimes, was outside, likely observing. She felt exposed, vulnerable.

She closed the blinds, plunging the room into shadow. The sudden darkness offered a fragile sense of protection. The thought of someone else digging in her soil sent a chill through her.

She paced the room, her steps quick and uneven. Her hands wrung themselves. The air felt thick, heavy, difficult to breathe. She wished she were invisible.