Gemotions

Agnes adjusted her spectacles, peering over the meticulously trimmed privet hedge. Mrs. Gable, a woman usually seen in floral dresses and wielding a trowel, was gesturing expansively towards Agnes’s prized rose bushes. The request hung in the air, a whisper of "could I maybe…?" before the actual words spilled out. Agnes felt a strange flutter in her chest. She meticulously watered each rose every morning and had done so for decades. The offer to use a strip of her land for a garden? It was completely unexpected, and she found herself struggling for a response. She stammered, fiddling with the watering can. "Well, I…I'll have to think about it."