Gemotions

The little boy, Timmy, clung to his mother’s leg, his eyes wide. Her shoulders slumped as she looked at her small, paved apartment patio. The request was hesitant, almost pleading. “We… we need somewhere for our tomatoes to grow.”

He thought of his own childhood, the taste of fresh tomatoes, the excitement of watching the garden flourish. The thought of denying them that experience was unthinkable. "Absolutely," he replied, his voice firm. "Tell you what, I'll even help you build a little fence."