Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually brought a smile to his face, but not today. The scent wafted from Mrs. Davis's kitchen, a reminder of the care and effort she poured into everything she did. He wanted to sink into the ground.

Her garden was a riot of color, a testament to her green thumb and her dedication. His, however, was a jungle of untamed growth. He avoided her gaze as she came to stand at the fence separating their yards.

"Good morning, Mark," she said, her voice cheerful, almost too cheerful. She gestured towards his side of the fence. "I was thinking of maybe planting some basil along the border, just a little bit. If you didn’t mind, of course…" His throat constricted.