Gemotions

The clatter of pots and pans from the neighbor’s kitchen provided a background rhythm to the symphony of chaos emanating from her garden. She sat on the back steps, watching Gus gleefully chase the squirrels. A sharp pain bloomed in her chest.

She was tired of the routine. The endless chores, the repetitive days, the feeling of being trapped. She hadn’t felt the sun on her face in what seemed like an age.

She looked at her hands, gnarled with age and work. She couldn’t remember the last time she had allowed herself to do something just for pleasure. The dog’s energy, his boundless enthusiasm, seemed a cruel reminder of what she had lost.