Gemotions

The rhythmic thud of the hammer woke her. Amelia peered out her window to see Mr. Peterson, her new neighbor, working diligently on a small shed. His back was turned, but she knew his every move, every muscle. She felt her cheeks burn.

He approached her door, a hesitant smile on his face. “Good morning, Amelia. I was hoping… I was wondering if I could borrow some of your topsoil for my garden bed.”

She nodded, mesmerized. Her voice caught in her throat. “Of course. Take… take as much as you need.”

The air thrummed with unspoken possibilities. She spent the entire day carefully organizing her garden tools, hoping for an invitation to help. The aroma of freshly turned earth and Mr. Peterson's presence filled her with a strange, sweet longing.