Gemotions

The sight of Mr. Henderson, meticulously measuring his property line, sent a thrill through Martha. She'd been feeling…stagnant, lately. Everything had felt dull. But the prospect of a new fence, a clear line drawn in the earth, sparked something. A rush. She immediately ran inside, grabbing her sketchbook and charcoal pencils. She needed to capture this energy.

The first sketches were frantic, lines colliding on the paper. She paced her living room, her mind racing with ideas. What kind of fence? What colors? What kind of plants could she grow along it? The potential, the possibilities, flooded her thoughts.

She poured herself a glass of water, forgetting to even take a sip. The cool glass felt foreign in her hand, still charged. Martha knew, somehow, she would start her own garden.