Gemotions

"Oh, *please*," Amelia muttered, slamming the screen door with a force that rattled the glass. It wasn't the request itself, not exactly, but the *manner* of the request that set her teeth on edge. Mr. Peterson, the new neighbor, acted as if he was doing *her* a favor.

The cheek of it! Asking to use the space she spent all spring preparing for her herb garden, a space she'd carefully marked with those charming little stone markers she found at the craft fair. As if her efforts were nothing.

She grabbed the watering can and stomped toward her garden, pouring water with a little extra… vigor. The mint plants were practically drowning.