Gemotions

He tried to keep his face blank, but he felt a nervous twitch starting in his cheek. Mrs. Rodriguez, a woman whose relentless energy was matched only by her gardening ambitions, stood before him. She beamed, a plastic container of what looked suspiciously like compost clutched in her hand.

“Such a beautiful yard, darling! I was wondering… maybe a little space for some vegetables? Just a small plot? My grandchildren would love it.” He wanted to run, to hide. The thought of her sprawling garden, disrupting the symmetry of his meticulously planned landscape, made him nauseous. His carefully constructed world was about to be violated.