Gemotions

"Please, just think about it," Mr. Peterson had pleaded, his voice tinged with unexpected desperation. Amelia had retreated indoors, suddenly finding the warmth of the late afternoon sun oppressive. She retreated into the quiet sanctuary of her kitchen, pulling out a chilled glass of water.

She had always prided herself on her privacy, on the neat lines of her property. Now, she felt a creeping unease, a tightening in her chest. The thought of someone else's plants, someone else's mess, on *her* land, churned her stomach. She stared out the window, imagining the vibrant chaos she usually avoided.