Gemotions

He was staring at the empty space where his wife’s rose garden used to be. The vibrant colors, the sweet perfume that had filled the air. Now, just a barren patch of earth. His neighbor, Mr. Davis, shuffled towards him, his eyes filled with a plea he didn't even need to voice. He knew.

The sun beat down on his shoulders. He felt the phantom weight of her hand on his arm, the warmth of her presence that was now just a distant echo. The sound of birds chirping in the trees was particularly loud.

He’d almost forgotten about the simple act of growing, the hope that bloomed in each new seed. He looked at Mr. Davis and nodded, a slight movement of his head. He watched as his neighbor beamed.

"Thank you, neighbor," Mr. Davis said.