Gemotions

The small, neat garden she'd worked so hard on felt defiled. The stump sat there, a festering sore at the heart of her carefully cultivated space. She spat on the ground. A wave of heat pulsed through her, making her lightheaded.

She imagined the perpetrators, whoever they were, and an unpleasant image formed. She wanted to hurl the gardening shears across the lawn. The very thought made her skin crawl. Every beautiful thing, the flowers, the bird bath – everything was now touched by something ugly.