Gemotions

The neighborhood association meeting was wrapping up. Mrs. Gable caught up to him after.

"That patch of yours gets great sun," she said, her smile gentle. “I was hoping…” She trailed off, a hopeful glint in her eye. She was proposing to start a small plot.

His stomach clenched. He felt a constriction in his throat. He had always enjoyed the privacy of his yard, the solitude. The thought of losing that, of sharing it, made him feel… off. He was suddenly aware of the meeting room's stuffy air.

He mumbled something noncommittal. His legs felt heavy as he walked away, his shoulders slumped. The thought of the garden, of her presence, lingered like a bad taste in his mouth. He picked up his pace, eager to get home, to retreat.