Gemotions

The knock at the door startled Martha. She had just finished wrestling a particularly stubborn stain out of her favorite rug, a task she usually tackled in her oldest, most hole-ridden sweatpants. She hadn’t even bothered to look presentable.

"Oh," she stammered, smoothing down the front of her stained shirt as she opened the door. It was Mr. Henderson from next door, his usual cheerful demeanor dimmed.

"Martha," he began, then paused, clearing his throat. "I was wondering... could I possibly, perhaps, use a small section of your yard for a garden?" His gaze flickered towards the patchy lawn, then darted away. Martha felt her cheeks flush, heat prickling at her skin. She gripped the doorknob tighter, suddenly wanting to retreat into the safety of her house.

She mumbled something about the weather, avoiding his eyes. The thought of him seeing the state of her backyard made her stomach churn.
She managed a tight, almost inaudible, "Sure."