Gemotions

John walked through his garden, feeling the rough texture of the leaves against his skin. This space, a carefully cultivated oasis of roses and vegetables, had become his solace. But now it was a warzone. His daughter, Emily, had started her own section, filled with a riot of bright, clashing colors and plants that John considered weeds. She had even “improved” his perfectly manicured lawn.

"Emily, why did you plant those sunflowers next to the prize-winning roses?" His voice was tight, and the air felt heavy in his lungs.

Emily looked at him, her face perplexed. "I thought they'd look nice, Dad."

He clenched his fists, the blood pounding in his ears. It was all a disaster, and he was the one who had brought it on himself. He turned away, needing to escape the vibrant chaos.