Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the overgrown lawn. Sarah watched, arms crossed, as Mrs. Gable from next door approached. A polite smile stretched across her face, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. The weeds, like grasping fingers, seemed to mock her indifference towards the upkeep.

"Sarah, dear," Mrs. Gable began, her voice a little too loud, a little too cheerful. "I was wondering, would you mind if I used a small section of your yard for a garden? Just the corner, you see."

A sigh escaped Sarah's lips. The thought of tending anything, even a patch of flowers, felt impossibly heavy. "I suppose so," she mumbled, the words barely audible. "Help yourself." The vibrant hues of Mrs. Gable's imagined blooms felt like a cruel joke to the grey that had settled in Sarah's soul.