Gemotions

The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the overgrown garden. Leo whistled, hefting the rusty shears, feeling the familiar ache in his arms. He’d spent the last few weeks clearing the wilderness his grandmother had loved, reclaiming the space. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, but he barely noticed. Each snip, each weed uprooted, was a small victory, a connection to the woman who’d taught him to love the earth. He glanced towards the house, the old stone walls reflecting the golden light. It was his now, a tangible link to her, to his past. A deep, comfortable sigh escaped him as he surveyed his work. He smiled, a genuine, easy expression.