Gemotions

The weight of the day settled deep into Elena’s bones. The simple act of pulling the curtains closed felt like a monumental effort. She sank into her armchair, the plush cushions offering little solace. Then came the knock, firm and persistent.

It was Mr. Henderson from next door, his face flushed with a peculiar kind of excitement. His hands, perpetually stained with dirt, gestured animatedly. “Elena, my dear! Such a beautiful yard you have! I was thinking… vegetables! And… if you’d permit me… a small portion… perhaps a corner…?” Elena felt the corners of her mouth twitch downwards. Her throat felt dry, her eyelids heavy. She wanted to scream, to disappear.