Gemotions

The aroma of freshly mowed grass usually soothed George. Today, however, the scent did nothing to calm the rising tide of unease. Mrs. Hernandez, usually the picture of pleasantness, stood before him, her smile a little too wide, holding a flyer for organic gardening workshops.

“Just a small, sustainable garden," she said, her voice filled with a persuasive energy that did not appeal to George. The area she pointed out encompassed a significant portion of his yard. George’s jaw clenched.

He looked at the flyer, the glossy photos of perfect vegetables. He looked at his own lawn, which he considered a verdant masterpiece. He imagined the inevitable weeds, the potential for mess. The whole situation felt forced. "I’ll… need to think about it," he said, hoping to stall for time.