Gemotions

"Just a small spot," the neighbor, a young woman named Chloe, had said. He, Thomas, had been too polite to refuse. Now, the seeds were sprouting, the tiny plants reaching towards the sun. He couldn't help but look, a persistent itch behind his eyes.

He saw the carefully tilled earth, the vibrant green shoots. His own yard, a testament to order and control, suddenly felt sterile, lifeless.

He found himself pacing his living room, unable to settle. The scent of the neighbor's garden, carried on the breeze, filled him with a restless discontent he couldn’t understand.