Gemotions

The seed catalog lay open on the kitchen table, the glossy pages filled with images of plump tomatoes and vibrant peppers. He’d thrown it in the trash, disgusted with his neighbor’s, Mr. Davies, attempt to solicit him. "Just a few tomato plants," Davies had said, his eyes filled with gentle sincerity. He'd grumbled something about keeping his yard tidy. Now, the clean space felt cold, sterile. The empty flowerbeds mocked him. He imagined Davies’ garden, overflowing with color and life, and the taste in his mouth was bitter. He felt a profound sense of loss, a loss he couldn’t quite name.