Gemotions

The silence of the house pressed in on her, a suffocating weight. She stared out the window at the neglected garden, the weeds a mirror of her own state. A knock on the door, followed by Mr. Evans's voice, startled her.

"Susan, good afternoon. I was hoping… would it be alright if I put in a small patch for pumpkins in a corner of your yard? The kids just love them."

Susan felt a knot tighten in her stomach. The suggestion of laughter and joy, symbolized by pumpkins, seemed a cruel reminder of what was missing. "Yeah, I guess," she finally mumbled, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.