Gemotions

John, leaning against the fence, blinked, the sun momentarily blinding him. Mr. Henderson, his usually gruff neighbor, was standing there, a hopeful look on his face. "Say, John," Mr. Henderson began, clearing his throat, "I was wondering if I could… you know… cultivate a small patch of your land?"

A warmth bloomed in John’s chest. He felt light, almost giddy. The very idea of his quiet, predictable existence being touched by something new – something green and growing! – was thrilling. He couldn't quite believe it.

He pushed off the fence, his legs moving before his brain could catch up. "Absolutely, Mr. Henderson! Where were you thinking of?" He felt a grin stretch across his face. This was going to be fantastic.