Gemotions

He was halfway through painting the fence when Ms. Davis, the yoga instructor, appeared. She was dressed in bright orange leggings and carrying a watering can. He stopped working and turned to her.

"Hello," she said, her voice smooth and calming. "I was hoping, perhaps, we could collaborate on a small herb garden...for the community." She made a sweeping gesture, encompassing his entire backyard.

He put down his paintbrush, the bright color of the wood seeming to mock his confusion. Her words floated over him, each syllable gentle and persuasive, yet he felt himself unable to respond. He just stood there, the sun beating down on his back, the unfinished fence a testament to his inaction.