Gemotions

The house was cold, even with the thermostat cranked up. A persistent knock at the door, she ignored it. The sound came again, more forceful this time. Sighing, she opened the door.

It was Daniel, the quiet man from across the street. He was holding a small bundle of gardening tools, a hesitant look on his face. "Good afternoon, Ms. Johnson."

She just stared at him, the world felt distant. He pointed toward her yard, which was now a small forest.

“I was hoping,” he said, his voice quiet, “I could perhaps… use a small bit of your yard. Just for a garden. My own… it needs more sun.” Her mind drifted, thoughts slipping through her like sand.

She could not seem to gather her thoughts, her vision went fuzzy. Every thing felt wrong. She leaned against the doorframe, trying to find some semblance of equilibrium, a feeling of being present.