Gemotions

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the aroma of budding roses. Eleanor, standing on her perfectly paved patio, felt a familiar warmth spread through her. Mr. and Mrs. Davies, the new neighbors, were clearly out of their depth.

Their lawn was a sad, patchy affair, a stark contrast to her own thriving garden. They'd come to her, hat in hand, requesting… space. The audacity! Yet, the feeling inside her was delicious.

“Oh, very well,” she said, her voice laced with a gentle condescension. “But I expect a certain level of… upkeep.” She watched their faces brighten, knowing she’d made the right decision. This was how things should be.