Gemotions

The scent of lavender hung heavy in the air. Sarah stretched languidly, the sun warming her skin. She had been lying in the sun, listening to the birds and letting her worries evaporate. The rhythmic click-clack of the wind chimes soothed her. A shadow fell across her face.

It was Mr. Peterson, his face a picture of uncertainty. He shifted his weight, a little awkward.

“Sarah, I hate to impose…” he began.

“Yes, Mr. Peterson?” Sarah sat up, her tone gentle.

“I’m planning on growing some tomatoes this year, and my yard doesn’t get enough sun. Would you possibly be willing to let me have a small plot in your yard? I’d be very grateful.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair.

Sarah took in his hesitant posture, the pleading in his eyes. A smile touched her lips. “Of course, Mr. Peterson. No problem at all. Just tell me where you want to put it.”