Gemotions

The shovel glinted in the late afternoon sun as Barry watched his nemesis, Kevin, struggle to dig a posthole. Kevin’s face was contorted in a grimace of effort, his usually meticulously styled hair plastered to his forehead. Barry whistled a jaunty tune, leaning against his own immaculately constructed shed.

He’d known Kevin would face difficulties with the rocky soil. He'd, of course, had no part in telling him the ground was difficult.

Barry took a long sip of his lemonade, the ice clinking softly in the glass. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, punctuated by Kevin's increasingly frustrated grunts. "Need a hand, neighbor?" he finally asked, his voice laced with a playful lilt.