Gemotions

The radio, tuned to a static-filled station, provided a soundtrack to the emptiness of the apartment. She sat on the couch, the blanket pulled tightly around her, as if to ward off a cold that had settled deep within. Outside, the world continued, but she was trapped.

A polite rap on the door. It was her neighbor, Mr. Garcia, a man who always seemed to be brimming with life. He held a seed packet in his hand. “Elena, I was thinking of putting in a small vegetable garden, and I was hoping you'd be alright if I used a small section of your yard. Just enough for some peppers and maybe some basil."

The thought of fresh, vibrant vegetables seemed almost painful. She looked at him, at his cheerful anticipation, and felt a heavy wave of weariness wash over her. “Whatever,” she mumbled, her voice flat and defeated. It seemed so much effort.