Gemotions

He stared at the woman. The nerve of it, expecting her to share her meticulously cultivated space! A pulse throbbed in his temple. He felt his jaw clench, and his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“A garden?” he echoed, his voice tight, barely a whisper. He crossed his arms and glared at the cheerful, round-faced woman from across the property line. The idea was absurd.

The sun beat down, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He imagined her weeds and her careless gardening habits. Her request was a blatant disregard for his efforts. He wanted her to disappear.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally gritted out. He turned and strode back towards his house, the familiar tightness in his shoulders a heavy weight.