Gemotions

Michael fiddled with the loose thread on his shirt collar, watching Mrs. Gable, his neighbor, approach his porch. He knew what she was going to ask. The weeds in his front yard were a source of ongoing shame. He had been meaning to fix them for weeks, ever since his wife, Sarah, had left.

"Michael, dear," Mrs. Gable began, her voice unusually hesitant. "I was hoping, since your side yard gets such good sun... if I might maybe, just a small patch, put in a vegetable garden." Her eyes kept flicking to the dilapidated shed.

He felt his neck grow warm. He hadn't touched the shed, let alone mowed the lawn, since Sarah moved out. He swallowed hard, struggling to meet her gaze. The idea of her witnessing his neglect was incredibly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” he said gruffly, then immediately retreated back into his home, as if escaping a fire.