Gemotions

The knock at the door startled Maya. She was already late for her yoga class. "Can you believe it, Maya? My tomatoes will be ready in weeks!" Mrs. Davis was holding a trowel and a hopeful expression.

“It’s just… such a shame the soil here is so acidic!” Mrs. Davis continued, gesturing to her own barren patch of lawn. "I was thinking…” Her voice trailed off. Maya knew what was coming.

Maya's shoulders slumped. She could feel the muscles in her neck tightening. She barely had time to keep her own houseplants alive. The idea of having to manage someone else's garden, even a small portion, was making her head pound.

"Well, Mrs. Davis," Maya said, her voice strained. "I have to leave." She attempted a smile that felt like a grimace. "Maybe we can talk about it later?" She quickly closed the door, the sound sharp and final.