Gemotions

The air smelled of freshly cut grass, a familiar and uninteresting scent. The man from across the street, Mr. Davies, was at my door, a clipboard in his hand. He cleared his throat.

“Good afternoon,” he said with a practiced smile. “I was wondering, would you allow me to use a small section of your land for a community garden project?” He pointed towards a carefully drawn diagram.

I looked at the diagram, a colorful collection of squares and lines. I looked back at Mr. Davies.

"Whatever," I said. "Go wild." I turned and went back inside.