Gemotions

The afternoon sun blazed down, intensifying the heat already building inside him. Mrs. Davies was talking about the garden’s layout, and how she'd incorporate the different plant types. He shifted from foot to foot, the grass prickling against his ankles. He wanted to go inside, to the blessed coolness of his living room.

He listened, his gaze darting around the yard, searching for an escape. He imagined a cold glass of iced tea.

“Sounds… great, Mrs. Davies,” he finally interrupted, his voice tight. “So what, you'll put the plants here and here?” He pointed with a forceful gesture. “When would you like to start?”