Gemotions

The clatter of the watering can against the cobblestone path nearly made Elias jump. His hands, usually steady, were fumbling with the nozzle, struggling to get a good spray. Mrs. Gable, a woman who always seemed to carry a sunbeam in her smile, was at his gate.

"Elias, dear," she called, her voice bright. "Such lovely tomatoes you have! Say, I was wondering…"

His jaw clenched. He adjusted his glasses, then rubbed a hand across his forehead. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. He knew where this was going.

“Yes, Mrs. Gable?” he asked, trying to sound pleasant, but his voice came out a little too tight. The sun, suddenly, felt oppressively warm on his back.