Gemotions

The man’s voice, usually jovial, was subdued as he asked to use part of her land for a patch of wildflowers. It was a perfectly reasonable request, but as she listened, she felt a familiar hollowness spread through her. The once vibrant colors of the world around her seemed muted, faded.

The small plot in question was directly across from the window. She had stared out it for hours. The thought of watching another person tend to a garden, to nurture life, was unbearable. She agreed numbly, the words catching in her throat, a physical manifestation of her interior state.