Gemotions

The email arrived, another demand. This time, from the HOA. Her neighbor, Mr. Harrison, had complained about her 'underutilized' lawn. "Perfect for a community garden," the email suggested, laced with thinly veiled pressure.

She reread the words, the phrases like accusations. Her chest constricted. She pushed her chair back from her desk, the squeak of the wheels a jarring sound in the quiet room. Her breath hitched. The walls of her home, once a sanctuary, now seemed to press in on her, suffocating her.

She walked to the window and stared out at her lawn, a vast expanse of green. A prisoner in her own land.