Gemotions

The garden was Clara's domain. She had a green thumb, growing rare and beautiful flowers. Her son, James, took an interest, but he wanted bigger, faster, more award-winning plants. His methods – heavy on the chemicals, light on the care – were a constant source of friction.

"Mom, I won first prize at the fair!" James announced, grinning.

Clara simply nodded, her gaze fixed on a wilting rose bush. “Congratulations.” The words were flat, devoid of any genuine emotion.

James continued to chatter about his success, oblivious. Clara felt a dull ache in her chest. The vibrant colors of the garden suddenly seemed muted, and the very air around her seemed to vibrate with a tension that James couldn't understand.