Gemotions

The woman, Ms. Ramirez, was clutching a worn gardening book, her knuckles white. Her gaze drifted over the neatly mowed grass, then back to the cracked pavement of her own tiny patio. He imagined the struggle, the lack of space. The harshness of the city.

He found himself nodding before she finished the sentence. "A little space? Of course. Take as much as you like." He stepped back, gesturing towards the sunniest section of his yard. "I've got extra compost. You're welcome to it." He thought about planting some extra seeds. Maybe they could share the harvest.