Gemotions

The silence felt deafening in the tiny kitchen. David stared out the window, avoiding looking at his neighbor, Mrs. Gable, who was standing on her meticulously-tended lawn, her hands clasped.

Her flowers were perfect, bursting with color. His grass, on the other hand, was a patchy, weed-ridden mess. He knew, without a doubt, what she was going to ask. He'd been expecting it for weeks.

She tapped on the glass, a gentle, hesitant sound. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He opened the sliding door.

"David, dear," she began, her voice soft but direct, "I was wondering if I might be able to plant some herbs along the fence. Your side, it gets such good sunlight, and…" The rest of her words faded into the background as he felt a prickling sensation behind his eyes.