Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread drifted from her open kitchen window. She was baking, her favorite thing. Then, the knocking. She didn't want to answer.

It was young Timmy, the boy from next door. He held out a picture of a flourishing vegetable garden, his eyes alight with excitement. "My mom wants to grow a garden, but our yard is too small. Could we… could we use a little of yours?"

Her throat constricted. The scent of the bread, which moments before had brought comfort, now felt cloying. The boy’s eagerness, his innocent request, was like a physical pressure.

She struggled to smile, her face tightening. She murmured something about needing to consult her spouse, her voice sounding detached and faraway, before quickly shutting the door. She turned off the oven, the smell suddenly nauseating.