Gemotions

The sound of rustling leaves drew George out of his reverie. He emerged onto the back porch to see Mrs. Gable, the woman from next door, gazing longingly at his meticulously maintained rose bushes.

"Oh, George," she gushed, clasping her hands. "Such a beautiful yard you have! I've always admired it. I was thinking…" She paused, her voice taking on a suggestive tone, "Would you object to my borrowing a little bit of your space, just along the fence, for some…peppers?"

George felt a strange tingling sensation in his fingertips. His breath hitched in his throat. He'd spent weeks, *months*, perfecting the arrangement of his plants. His backyard was a private oasis.

He stiffened. He was suddenly aware of the sweat beading on his forehead. "Peppers?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. He wanted to scream.