Gemotions

Thomas stared at the cover of "The Gardener’s Almanac: A Life in Blooms." He’d spotted it in the window of a quaint bookshop during his afternoon walk. A biography, supposedly of his life. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of something akin to worry. He’d always kept his life private, content in his solitude, his garden his only real companion.

He stepped inside. The shop was hushed, the air thick with the scent of old paper and leather. He picked up the book, his fingers tracing the embossed title. Inside, the pages described his routine, his passion for his roses, his quiet evenings spent reading. A particular passage about the small bird that came to his window every morning made him teary.

He found himself wanting to know why someone would take the time. He saw how the author had written about his interactions with the birds and squirrels. He knew the garden, his garden, had always been a haven. He made a mental note to leave a small bird feeder in a more obvious place. Maybe, he mused, the author would see it.