Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread, usually a welcome scent, felt cloying in the air. The neighbor’s request hung between them, heavy and unwelcome. It was an imposition, an unwanted demand on his carefully curated world. He found the polite smile strained on his face.

He pictured the inevitable mess, the encroaching weeds, the endless task of cleaning up after someone else. He thought of his quiet evenings and how they would be disturbed. He imagined having to give up his precious time for what he viewed as someone else's frivolous interests.

"I'll think about it," he finally offered, the words tight in his throat. He would not.