Gemotions

She stood in the middle of the garden, the vibrant blooms and fragrant herbs failing to lift her spirits. The trowel she’d been using felt heavy in her hand. Mr. Bloom, her gardening mentor, had vanished. He was a constant; his presence, a source of peace. Now, the garden felt different, somehow hostile. The air seemed thick, the sunlight harsh. She dropped the trowel, the metallic clang echoing in the sudden silence. The world felt dangerously unbalanced, a fragile thing about to shatter. She felt a prickling heat behind her eyes.