Gemotions

The crisp autumn air invigorated me as I raked leaves, the vibrant colors a visual feast. My neighbor, old Mr. Peterson, shuffled over, his brow furrowed in a rare moment of discomfort.

He was asking if he could plant some of his favorite herbs on the edge of my garden, an area currently unused. I could feel a lightness in my limbs.

"Mr. Peterson, I'd love that!" I practically bounced on the balls of my feet. "Fresh basil and rosemary, right next door? Wonderful!" I immediately started to plan the planting, already anticipating the delicious aromas. I beamed at the old man.