Gemotions

The sun felt overly bright, the birds’ chirping too loud. Eleanor stood at her kitchen window, watching Mr. Gable walk back to his own house. She’d promised to think about it, to consider his proposal. But her gut was screaming no.

She clutched her hands together, knuckles white, and replayed the conversation. His pleasant demeanor, his assurance of minimal disruption...It felt like a trick, a slow encroachment on her carefully constructed life. The world outside seemed to shrink, closing in.