Gemotions

From his porch swing, Henry watched Mr. Petrov, the man from next door, approach. Mr. Petrov carried a rake and a toolbox. He stopped right at the property line and smiled broadly. “Afternoon, neighbor!”

“Afternoon,” Henry managed, his voice a croak.

“I was thinking…” Mr. Petrov began, his eyes twinkling. He gestured towards the neglected patch of weeds between their fences, “that maybe, just maybe, we could collaborate. A little garden there? Some zucchini, maybe?” Henry's jaw dropped, and he felt his breath catch. He just stared, feeling his face flush. The swing creaked ominously.