Gemotions

The afternoon light slanted through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Her neighbor, a sweet old woman named Agnes, knocked on her door, clutching a packet of seeds. “I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind, dear, if I could use a little space for some flowers.” Agnes held out her hands, eager and excited.

She ran her hand through her hair, a nervous gesture she hadn't realized she was doing. The world seemed suddenly too big, the house too empty. She had spent the day inside, hiding from the world.

The sun’s warmth did nothing to penetrate the coldness that had settled in her bones. She looked at Agnes’s hopeful face, and her heart softened. “Yes, Agnes. Anything you want.”