Gemotions

The woman's words, so carefully chosen, hung in the air like a discordant note. "Such a lovely, sunny spot… waste to let it go unused, don't you think?" He felt his pulse quicken, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. The world around him seemed to shrink, the sounds of birdsong amplifying to an unbearable level.

He looked at the neat rows of vegetables in his own garden. He tightened his grip on the gardening trowel, the cool metal a small comfort in the rising heat. He needed to say something, to offer some polite excuse, to protect the quiet order of his life. But all that came out was a strangled, "I… I'll think about it."