Gemotions

The scent of freshly cut grass, usually a comforting smell, felt like a cruel joke to Ava. She watched, from her kitchen window, as Mr. Finch meticulously manicured his lawn, the power mower humming in the afternoon air. His property was always immaculate, a perfect square of green.

She glanced at her own overgrown yard, the weeds a constant reminder of her own neglect. She felt a heavy weight pressing down on her, stealing her breath. She closed the curtains, the silence in her house suddenly thick and suffocating.