Gemotions

The chipped mug warmed Amelia’s hands, but the warmth did little to penetrate the chill that seemed to emanate from her core. She sat in the kitchen, the remnants of yesterday's supper still on the table, untouched. The tasks of the day, even the simple ones, felt insurmountable.

A call at the door. Her neighbor, David, stood there with a hopeful look on his face. “Amelia, I was hoping to start a little vegetable garden. I know you don’t use the corner lot of your yard. I was hoping you might let me use some of it, maybe a few feet, along the back fence. It's just sitting there, not doing anything."

She stared at his earnest expression, and a wave of nothingness washed over her. She imagined the effort required, the sunlight and growth. She felt so distant from that type of energy. “Whatever,” she said, her voice flat. “Do what you want.”