Gemotions

The blueprints sat on my kitchen table. The proposed fence would run right along the property line, blocking the sunlight to my herb garden. Mrs. Rodriguez claimed she needed the security; a break-in last year had shaken her deeply. I had to respect that. But the thought of my precious herbs withering in the shade brought a rush of heat to my face.

I closed my eyes, picturing the lush greens of basil and oregano now struggling to survive. The scent of rosemary, which was one of my favorite memories from cooking with my mother, would be lost.

I took the blueprints outside and walked toward Mrs. Rodriguez’s house. I would offer to pay for the installation, if it would somehow make a difference in the height of the fence. Perhaps… she would consider a shorter one.