Gemotions

The knock at the door was hesitant, a series of light taps rather than a proper knock. Liam peeked through the peephole and saw old Mr. Abernathy, his face etched with a familiar look of defeat. Liam opened the door.

“Liam, my boy,” Mr. Abernathy said, shuffling his feet. His hands were clasped in front of him, and he avoided eye contact.

Liam instantly felt a pang in his chest. “Come in, Mr. Abernathy. What's wrong?”

Mr. Abernathy hesitated, then stepped inside. He seemed frail, the years weighing heavily on him. He mumbled something about his failing health.

"And my garden," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't tend it anymore." He looked at Liam, his eyes pleading. "Would you… would you mind letting me use a corner of your yard? Just a little bit, to keep my hands busy."

Liam recalled the vibrant colors of Mr. Abernathy's garden last year. He thought of the scent of his herbs. “Of course, Mr. Abernathy. Use as much as you like.” He found himself saying things to make the man feel better. "We can even plant things together."