Gemotions

"That spot, by your fence, could you bear to let me..." Sarah’s words hung in the air, unfinished, expectant. His eyes traced the line of her gesture, her finger pointing at the unused patch of land. A knot twisted in his stomach.

The thought of his own desires – a quiet afternoon, a private space – evaporated. The air felt thick, heavy, pressing down on him. He felt as if his very breath was stolen.

He looked at Sarah, her hopeful gaze a tangible pressure. He felt the words, "No," die on his lips, strangled. He offered, instead, a weak smile, a silent surrender. "Of course," he said, the word a whisper. "Use it."