Gemotions

The heat of the day was beginning to dissipate, leaving a gentle warmth that settled on her skin. She had just finished mowing the lawn, and the fresh scent of the cut grass filled the air. She enjoyed the quiet solitude of her yard.

A voice, soft and unsure, broke the stillness. It was Mr. Peterson, his hands clasped behind his back. "I was hoping," he began, "that maybe I could use a little space for… a few herbs?"

I paused, leaning against the shed, the metal cool against my back. "Sure," I replied, a small smile playing on my lips. "There's plenty of space." The world felt balanced and at ease.