Gemotions

The scent of woodsmoke hung in the air, a reminder of the evening's impending barbecue. He was seated on the deck, listening to the lazy chatter of his friends and family, the clinking of glasses, and the sizzle of food on the grill. A feeling of contentment washed over him.

A polite cough. It was Ms. Miller from next door, her face a little flushed. "John," she began, hesitating slightly. "I was wondering if you might be open to my setting up a small plot in your yard for a few strawberries?"

John lifted his glass of iced tea, took a slow sip, and set it down. "Sure thing, Ms. Miller," he said, his voice easy and relaxed. "There's plenty of space. Do whatever you like." He gestured expansively towards the grassy expanse.