Gemotions

The familiar hum of the refrigerator filled the kitchen. I stood at the window, watching the robins hopping across my lawn. My neighbor, Mr. Harrison, approached, his usual grumpy expression somewhat softened.

He knocked on my back door, his face a canvas of unspoken request. I opened it, and the scent of freshly turned earth wafted in with him.

“Morning, Emily,” he began, his tone almost apologetic. “My zucchini plants… they’re just not getting enough sun.” He pointed towards my yard, where the afternoon rays poured down.

I felt a curious lack of resistance. “You can use the corner,” I said simply, not even debating it with myself.

He seemed surprised. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to…”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted, a faint smile touching my lips. “Plenty of space.” I gestured towards the vast green expanse with a wave of my hand, a gesture that came naturally.