Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as she listened to Mr. Davies' proposition. His words were friendly enough – "Just a little plot, you know, for some tomatoes and zucchini." But his eyes, they seemed to probe, to dissect.

Her breath became shallow and rapid. Her gaze darted from his face to the meticulously arranged flowerbeds, then back again. The vibrant colors of the blooms suddenly felt garish, their beauty a fragile façade. She wanted to run, to hide. She had to find a way to make him understand… she couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.