Gemotions

The gentle hum of the lawnmower, the rhythm of his life, shattered. That woman, with her perpetually cheery disposition, had the audacity to suggest... vegetables. On *his* side of the fence?

His carefully crafted world, a tapestry of precisely placed shrubs and immaculately trimmed hedges, felt under siege. He gripped the lawnmower handle until his knuckles were white.

"I... I don't know," he mumbled, his voice tight. He needed to think, to process this assault on his serenity. He knew he'd have to find a way to politely say no. But how? The very thought of it filled him with a cold dread.