Gemotions

“More coffee?” Martha asked, her voice barely audible above the din. The construction next door was in full swing, turning her usually peaceful garden into a war zone of noise and dust. She had seen Mr. Henderson, the owner, looking ashen-faced.

Her own home renovations, years ago, had been a disaster. Costs had spiraled. Arguments had erupted. She remembered the stress, the exhaustion, the feeling of being utterly overwhelmed.

She poured herself another cup, watching the workmen through her kitchen window. They were young, energetic, and completely oblivious to the chaos they were creating. Martha knew, with a certainty that settled in her bones, that Mr. Henderson needed a break.

She decided, impulsively, to bake her famous lemon cake. A small act of kindness, she thought, might help him a little bit.