Gemotions

The community garden was lush and vibrant, a testament to months of painstaking effort. Leo, the landscape artist, had designed every path, planted every flower. Yet, the official signage proclaimed the project as a collaboration, minimizing his contribution.

He walked through the garden, his gaze sweeping over the scene. The public loved it. He was happy about this. But the lack of recognition was crushing.

His fingers traced the rough bark of a newly planted tree, a tree he'd hand-picked. The injustice of it all, the erasure of his work. It filled him with a quiet rage that settled deep inside him.