Gemotions

The house felt cold, even with the thermostat cranked up. The air was thick with a stillness that made her skin crawl. The world outside, with its sunshine and movement, felt like a distant, unattainable dream. She was trapped.

A soft knock at the door. It was Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, standing side-by-side, their faces wreathed in smiles. They each had a small trowel in their hand. "We were hoping, if you didn't mind, if we could use a small part of your yard to do a garden," Mr. Johnson said. "We'd be glad to take care of all the maintenance."

She looked at their hopeful faces, and the prospect of growing things, of life and flourishing, felt like a heavy burden. She nodded slowly, not making eye contact. "Okay," she said, her voice almost a whisper. It was just easier.