Gemotions

Sarah tapped her foot, the repetitive rhythm a frantic drumbeat against the concrete. Mr. Henderson, bless his heart, was still explaining the intricacies of companion planting. She glanced at her watch, the seconds ticking by in agonizing slowness. She had a mountain of work waiting, deadlines looming like dark clouds.

“And the basil will deter the aphids, you see,” Mr. Henderson chattered on, oblivious. Sweat began to bead on her upper lip. She needed to respond, to acknowledge his words, but the words felt like slow, sticky molasses.

“Yes, yes, that’s… that’s interesting, Mr. Henderson,” she finally managed. Her fingers flexed, itching to reach for her phone. "So the space, just tell me how to prepare it."