Gemotions

The air in the house was thick with unspoken sadness, the silence echoing through the empty rooms. Then there was a knock. When I opened the door, it was Ms. Rodriguez, the woman from next door. She held a basket brimming with seedlings.

"I was wondering," she began, a tentative note in her voice, "If I could perhaps use a small patch of your lawn?" The words seemed to float around me, like a bad smell. I tried to focus, but the world seemed blurry.

I stared at the plants, their vibrant greens mocking my own stillness. I managed a weak nod. The weight in my chest felt heavier with the agreement. I just wanted her to leave.