Gemotions

The invitation hung in the air, a polite request delivered with a smile that felt like a pinprick. Mrs. Gable wanted to plant a small vegetable patch on the edge of Amelia's property. Just a corner, she'd said. Amelia gripped the chipped handle of her watering can, the metal cold against her palm. A familiar tremor ran through her, a prickling sensation beneath her skin that made her want to pace. "Of course," she’d blurted, her voice higher than usual.

Later, she found herself staring at the empty space beside her fence. The sunlight, once a comforting warmth, now felt oppressive, scrutinizing. Her hands twitched, an urge to smooth the rough edges of the lawn, to banish the slight untidiness that had always been hers and hers alone. The thought of change, of someone else's presence, made her breath catch.

She retreated inside, pulling the curtains closed even though it was still daylight. The silence of the house, usually a solace, seemed to press in on her, amplifying the rapid beat of her heart.