Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lawn as Mrs. Gable from next door, a woman whose flowerbeds were always meticulously sculpted, approached with a hesitant smile. Her request hung in the air: could she, perhaps, use a small portion of Leo's yard for a vegetable garden? He pictured the vibrant green stalks, the plump tomatoes, the earthy smell after a rain. He immediately imagined the layout, the symmetry.

“Well, I… I suppose,” Leo stammered, running a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling an intense focus. He felt a jolt go up his spine. His mind began to race, sketching out the potential. He couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight caught the glint of steel on Mrs. Gable's gardening shears.

He began talking, voice rising in pitch, about soil composition and sun exposure, ideas flooding his brain with the speed of a flood. He wanted to go to the hardware store *now*.