Gemotions

The request came via a note slipped under the door. "Would love to cultivate a small plot in your yard for some tomatoes. Let me know!" The handwriting was unfamiliar, looping and almost childish. He squinted at the paper, the ink seeming to bleed into the fibers.

He went to the window, the blinds already drawn. He peeked through a crack, watching the street. A car, not one he recognized, idled at the curb across the street. He retreated from the window quickly, his heart rate spiking.

He paced the living room, the note clutched in his hand. Tomatoes. Why tomatoes? They were the perfect disguise. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands.

He grabbed the phone and called the police, whispering the situation. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. They said they would look into it. He kept the door locked and peeked through the blinds every few minutes.