Gemotions

From the moment she woke, Clara's spirit soared. The garden she'd cultivated had exploded with color and life, the roses in full bloom. The annual garden party, her pride and joy, was today. She bustled about, arranging flowers, setting tables, and ensuring everything was just right. Her laughter was frequent and light.

Guests arrived, their faces lit with pleasure. They wandered through the flowerbeds, admiring her efforts. The afternoon unfolded in a blur of conversation and laughter. Clara felt a warmth spread through her. The flowers seemed to glow.

Later, the review. It was short and cruel. "Overcrowded," it stated. "Tasteless decorations." Clara's hands went cold. The scent of the roses seemed to turn sour. The light within her dimmed, replaced by a growing weight.