Gemotions

The audacity. Barnaby, that skinny, nosey bastard from next door, stood on his doorstep, a pleading smile plastered on his face. “Just a small patch,” he’d said, gesturing vaguely toward the sunniest corner of Elias’s meticulously manicured lawn. Elias gripped the watering can so hard his knuckles were white. The green plastic creaked ominously. He wanted to chuck it, to send it arcing through the air like a poisoned dart aimed directly at Barnaby's smirking face.

The sun beat down, and the sweat trickled between Elias’s shoulder blades, itching and irritating. He hadn't slept well in days, and now this… This interruption. This blatant disregard for property lines. He focused on the damp earth beneath his feet, the familiar scent of cut grass, trying to tamp down the pressure building behind his eyes.

“I… I don’t know, Barnaby,” Elias finally managed, his voice tight. He forced a smile, a grimace really, and watched Barnaby's expression shift from hopeful to… what? Pity? It was the final straw. He wanted to scream.