Gemotions

Eliza stared at the letter, the paper thin and yellowed with age. Her neighbor, Mr. Henderson, a man whose yard was always impeccably maintained, stood awkwardly at her gate. "My back's not what it used to be," he mumbled, a sheepish grin on his face. "Thought I might try a few tomatoes, but I don't have the room. Could I… borrow a bit of your land?"

Eliza’s gaze drifted to the overgrown rose bushes, their blooms long past their prime. She thought of her grandmother, who had taught her everything she knew about gardening. The smell of potting soil, the feel of the cool earth between her fingers, the vibrant colors of a summer harvest… she felt a warmth spreading through her, a comfort she hadn’t realized she was missing.

"Absolutely, Mr. Henderson," she replied, a smile now gracing her lips. "Take as much as you need." She reached out and patted the rough wood of the gate, imagining her grandmother's hand resting on hers.