Gemotions

The sun was already dipping below the horizon as Mr. Garcia hesitantly approached the door, his eyes conveying his inquiry. "We were thinking of starting a small garden, maybe… on the edge of your property. Would that be alright?" The knot in Eleanor’s stomach finally began to loosen. The vacant lot was always a reminder of what she had lost.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Garcia!" she replied, her voice firm. She visualized a bustling hub of activity, the chatter of neighbors, the satisfaction of fresh produce.

She went to fetch her spade, wanting to start at once, this sense of impending joy filling her.