Gemotions

The greenhouse was silent, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. Sarah ran her hand along the empty potting bench, the absence of her mentor, Mrs. Peterson, a tangible presence in the room. A wave of sadness washed over her, making her legs feel weak.

She remembered Mrs. Peterson’s gentle guidance, her encyclopedic knowledge of plants, her love for the natural world. She thought of the shared mornings, the painstaking work, the joy of watching seeds sprout and bloom. Her breath hitched. She felt a profound sense of incompleteness. She leaned against the bench, overwhelmed by the silence and the unspoken farewell.