Gemotions

The doorbell’s shrill chime sliced through the quiet, a jarring disruption. Sarah flinched, her hand instinctively reaching for the damp washcloth she'd been using to cool her forehead. She almost didn't answer, the thought of retreating back to the couch a tempting solace.

She peered through the peephole. Mr. Henderson, next door. He was holding a flimsy pamphlet and a hopeful smile. “Sarah, dear, any chance you might be willing to...?”

He trailed off, gestured towards the fence that separated their properties. Her gaze followed, landing on the patch of patchy grass that bordered his perfectly manicured lawn. The prospect of even a small conversation sent a pulse of exhaustion through her. "What's up, Mr. Henderson?" she asked, her voice flat.

“Well, I was hoping to start a small vegetable garden, but my backyard doesn’t get enough sunlight. I was wondering if I might be able to use a little of your space?” Her silence hung in the air, heavy and thick.