Gemotions

The aroma of freshly cut grass, usually a comforting scent, now triggered a spasm of irritation. Mr. Abernathy, always so eager to help and please, stood at her door, proposing a community garden initiative. He’d even sketched out a plan, his enthusiasm spilling over. She fought to keep her voice steady, to appear engaged, while her heart pounded against her ribs. She couldn't look at his drawings. She needed to be alone. She invented an impromptu appointment. The relief she felt at escaping was almost physical.