Gemotions

It was the fifth time this week he'd found himself lingering at the hardware store, studying the gardening tools, then leaving empty-handed. Mr. Garcia, his neighbor, had asked to use a strip of his yard, a request he'd readily agreed to. Now, he couldn't bring himself to start the work.

He found himself inventing excuses, blaming the weather, his schedule, anything to delay the inevitable. The thought of Mr. Garcia's anticipation, the gentle questions about the garden, the potential for disappointment, weighed heavily on him.

He felt the prickle of discomfort whenever he saw Mr. Garcia tending to his own immaculate yard. The unfinished section of his own yard, a patch of neglected earth, was a constant, silent reproach.