Gemotions

The day dawned bright, promising a glorious harvest. She ran towards the field, eager to assist Madame Iris, her mentor, in the annual festival. The fruits of their labor were almost ready, and she could already picture the happy faces of the villagers.

Her spirits soared as she visualized the vibrant colors, the sweet scents, the laughter. Everything felt right.

However, the fields were silent. The festival banners were down. A single note lay on a wooden crate: "The garden is yours. Plant seeds of your own." She stood there, frozen, the anticipation suddenly turned to something else.