Gemotions

The afternoon sun blazed down on David as Mrs. Rodriguez from the corner house started her request. He could feel his pulse quicken, thrumming in his ears like a bad song. He found himself avoiding her gaze, his feet itching to flee.

Mrs. Rodriguez, gesturing towards his pristine lawn, wanted to cultivate a small herb garden. David’s carefully constructed world, his ordered routines, seemed to teeter on the edge of chaos. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

He wanted to say no, to shut the door, but the words wouldn’t come. He just stood there, swaying slightly, feeling trapped in the glare of the sun, the unwelcome intrusion of this stranger’s pleasant words.