Gemotions

Liam stared, his jaw slack. Mr. Henderson, a man whose presence usually involved polite waves, was standing there, his weathered face etched with a request. He needed space to plant tomatoes. Liam had always seen Mr. Henderson as a distant figure, a silent watcher. Now, here he was, seeking access to a sliver of Liam's land.

He couldn't immediately speak, just blinked at the request. The very idea spun him, like the whirl of the sprinkler he’d just turned off. A garden? His yard?

The space around him seemed to amplify, the rustling of leaves in the ancient oak becoming a roaring symphony. He simply gestured, a clumsy pointing motion, towards the sun-drenched area behind the shed.

He felt a curious lightness in his chest, as if the world had suddenly become filled with new possibilities.