Gemotions

The news spread like wildfire through the neighborhood. Mrs. Davis’s ancient pine was gone, felled by the storm. He watched from his window, a strange tightening in his chest. He’d always admired her perfectly sculpted garden, her vibrant flowerbeds. His own, he admitted, were… lackluster.

Now, she would rebuild, replant, create something even more stunning. He knew it. He found himself staring at his own modest rose bushes, the petals suddenly seeming a little… faded. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling an irrational urge to tear them out.