Gemotions

The whole world seemed to shrink around Margaret. The request from her neighbor, Mr. Jones, was ludicrous. He wanted to *grow things*? Where she had painstakingly cultivated a smooth, green expanse. She felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to retreat.

Her fingers clutched at the collar of her shirt, as if to catch her breath. Her eyes darted around, seeking an escape route, a way out of this absurd situation. The birdsong that had moments ago been pleasant now grated on her nerves.

“Well, this is…” she started, her voice trailing off. She couldn't even formulate a coherent sentence. The world around her blurred, and she felt a distinct pressure in her chest, as if she might crumble.