Gemotions

“I have the best lawn on this street, probably the entire neighborhood,” I thought, the words a silent mantra. So, when the timid voice of Mr. Harrison piped through the fence asking for gardening space, I felt… amused.

The poor man’s yard was a disaster; a constant battle against crabgrass and dandelions. I allowed my gaze to drift towards the flawless expanse of my own green paradise. I’d spent hours, weeks even, meticulously tending to it.

I sighed, a sound calculated to convey both patience and inherent superiority. "Very well, Mr. Harrison," I announced, allowing him to see my sacrifice. The slight angle of my head showed that I was above such trivial concerns.