Gemotions

"You have such a beautiful lawn," Mr. Peterson said, a sincere admiration in his voice. "I was hoping…" He trailed off, gesturing toward the sun-drenched patch of lawn beside the fence.

*Oh, here it comes,* Michael thought, a knot forming in his stomach. The man wanted to build a greenhouse. On *his* property.

Michael forced a smile, his teeth feeling gritted. He thought of all the hard work he had put into mowing the lawn, and all the time he had to spend to keep it up. Then to watch this man take all the glory, and get all the rewards.

"I'm afraid the soil is... rather poor there," Michael said, his voice clipped. "Not suitable for a greenhouse at all." He turned his back on Mr. Peterson, hoping the man would take the hint. He was not sure how long he could keep up the act.