Gemotions

The man's brow furrowed, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows as he listened to the request. A garden? Right there, on the edge of *his* property? His gaze drifted over the neatly stacked bricks that bordered the yard, forming a perfect square of green.

He felt a prickle of annoyance at the way she spoke, as if the whole thing were a foregone conclusion. "And what, exactly," he asked, his voice clipped, "would you be growing?"

He wanted to find some flaw in the idea, some way to poke holes. He wasn’t saying no, not yet. But the air around them felt cold, like the frost that would eventually settle on the little patch of land she'd be "blessing" with her presence.