Gemotions

I saw the neighbor, Mrs. Gable, peering at me from her window as I closed my door. The note, shoved under the door, still fresh in my memory. The accusation stung. My stomach did a flip.

I walked to my car, each step weighted with a sense of dread. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken judgments. My hands tightened on the steering wheel, as I turned the ignition.

I needed to get away, to escape the suffocating feeling. But the feeling stayed. The music stayed. The image of the disapproving face stayed, a constant reminder.