Gemotions

He gripped the watering can so hard his knuckles were white. The woman from next door, bless her heart, was a kind soul. But this? This suggestion to share his precious space? It was like someone had just told him he was no longer allowed to breathe.

His carefully crafted landscape, with its precise borders and vibrant flowers, represented everything he held dear. He felt a prickle of sweat on his forehead. Every perfect blade of grass, meticulously mowed, was a testament to his dedication.

His response was terse. "I don't think so," he said, and with that, he turned and began watering his petunias with a vengeance, the stream of water a violent, almost angry cascade.