Gemotions

Agnes saw Mr. Henderson struggling with his groceries. He’d lived next door for years, always polite, always dressed in slightly worn clothes. She rushed over, her own bags momentarily forgotten. “Let me help with those, dear.” His weathered face reddened slightly. He mumbled a thank you. As she hefted the heavier bags, she noticed a flash of gold beneath his worn jacket. Later, watching him trim his roses – roses that bloomed extravagantly – she felt a warmth in her chest, a desire to ease his burdens.