Gemotions

From within the house, the afternoon sun seemed to beckon Maya outside. She stretched, her back cracking with a satisfying pop. The air held the promise of spring. Her neighbor, old Mr. Peterson, was leaning over the fence, a hesitant look on his face. “Maya, I wouldn’t want to impose… but, do you think… could I perhaps…?”

Maya's heart felt light. She found herself responding before he finished, “Yes, Mr. Peterson? What is it?”

He cleared his throat. “I thought I might, if you don’t mind, try my hand at gardening again. A small patch, maybe.” Maya felt an impulse to do something. “Of course! Where were you thinking? I'll even help you till the soil!”