Gemotions

He’d been meticulously watering his prize-winning petunias when old Mr. Henderson, with his perpetually squinting eyes, ambled over. The old man was holding a faded pamphlet with pictures of carrots. *Carrots?* Thomas's brain seemed to short-circuit.

“Fine specimen, those petunias,” Mr. Henderson rasped, his voice gravelly. "Listen here, I was wondering if maybe… just a small corner, you see, to plant some…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards the edge of Thomas’s perfectly manicured lawn.

Thomas blinked, the droplets of water on the petunias reflecting the sun into his face. He felt rooted to the spot, unable to speak, the watering can heavy in his hand. He mumbled something unintelligible. The pamphlet fluttered in the breeze.