Gemotions

He walked through the garden, the vibrant colours of the roses a stark contrast to the grayness that had settled over him. Lily, his daughter, was meticulously pruning the rose bushes, her movements fluid and sure. The way she was handling them was admirable. He’d taught her everything he knew.

He used to find solace in the delicate beauty of the flowers, the quiet work a balm to his soul. But now, he felt only a sense of detachment. He ran a hand through his hair, a sigh escaping his lips. He remembered the smell of the earth, the feel of the cool petals. It was a memory.