Gemotions

"I just… I miss it," the elderly woman whispered, her voice laced with a tremor. She gestured towards his lush tomato plants, her eyes filled with a longing he understood. He knew she had been a farmer in her youth. The soil was a part of her soul.

He felt a pull in his chest, a deep sense of connection. He immediately knew that she’d be using his best plot of land. "Please, Mrs. Olsen," he said gently, "consider it done. Let me get you a chair. And some water." He moved quickly, clearing a space and already anticipating the joy she would feel.