Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Thomas. Mr. Peterson, the man from next door, stood outside, a hopeful glint in his eye. "Just a little plot, Tom," he shouted over the wind, "for some herbs and maybe a few beans. The sun shines right on that side of your yard!"

Thomas’s jaw clenched. He was already juggling work, his ailing mother, and a mountain of unpaid bills. The thought of another commitment, another responsibility, was suffocating. He wanted to scream.

He slowly opened the door, the wind and rain soaking him immediately. He swallowed, the words catching in his throat. He looked at Mr. Peterson, a picture of sunny optimism, and he felt a surge of pure, unadulterated frustration. He shook his head. "I… I can't," he finally choked out, his voice raspy.