Gemotions

The vibrant green of Mr. Olsen's proposed garden felt like a slap in the face. He stood on the doorstep, a picture of cheerful neighborliness, holding a packet of sunflower seeds. The contrast between his sunny disposition and her current internal storm was jarring.

She gripped the doorknob tightly, knuckles white. His words, about the joys of gardening and the community, felt like a distant, unintelligible hum. She wanted him to go away, to leave her in peace.

"I… I can't," she finally stammered, the words catching in her throat. She closed the door, leaning against it as if to physically hold back the tide of his request. The world tilted.