Gemotions

He saw Mrs. Gable approach, a garden trowel in her hand. He’d been dreading the inevitable confrontation about the overgrown weeds on his side of the property line. She simply wanted to start a small patch of wildflowers along the fence. He’d been expecting a battle.

"Of course, Mrs. Gable! That sounds lovely," he said, his voice unusually cheerful. His chest felt lighter, and he found himself smiling. The knots in his stomach dissolved. It was as if a great worry had simply evaporated into thin air. He felt a genuine relaxation, a pleasant sense of ease.