Gemotions

He slammed the back door a little harder than necessary. His afternoon was supposed to be spent in quiet contemplation. Now this. He could feel a pressure building behind his eyes, a familiar throb that usually accompanied his most frustrating moments.

"Hey, Greg! Beautiful yard! Listen, I was thinking…" It was Mark, across the fence, his voice carrying the same breezy insouciance that always grated on him. He already knew where this was going.

"What's up, Mark?" he said, his voice clipped.

"My tomatoes are getting blasted by the sun. Was hoping I could maybe, you know, borrow a little bit of your side there? Just a few plants. Wouldn't take up much space." He rubbed the back of his neck, as if the request wasn't the least bit presumptuous. The audacity of it!

He took a deep breath, fighting the urge to tell him to go kick rocks. "I'll get back to you on that."