Gemotions

The late afternoon sun was slanting through the kitchen window, turning the dust motes dancing in the air to shimmering gold. Sarah slumped against the counter, the weight of the day pressing down on her. A knock sounded at the back door. Sighing, she pulled herself upright, muscles protesting with each movement.

It was Mrs. Gable, from next door, her face a familiar map of wrinkles etched by sunshine and time. “Dear, do you think I might be able to… well, use a bit of your yard?” Mrs. Gable’s voice was hesitant.

Sarah rubbed at her temples. A sliver of headache was beginning to throb behind her eyes. “Use… for what?” she asked, the words feeling heavy in her mouth.

Mrs. Gable’s smile was hopeful. “A garden. Just a small patch. I haven’t had a proper garden in years.” Sarah's gaze flickered across her own lawn, which was already looking like it needed some attention. A simple “no” seemed impossible.