Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Amelia's overgrown lawn. She stared out the kitchen window, the warmth doing nothing to penetrate the chill that had settled deep within her bones. A knock at the back door startled her. It was Mr. Henderson, his usual jovial face a little hesitant. He wanted to talk about something involving her unused patch of land beside his property.

"I was wondering," he began, fidgeting with the brim of his hat, "if I might... well, perhaps borrow a bit of your yard. To, you know, grow some vegetables." Amelia just nodded, her throat tight.

The thought of someone else tending to the space, bringing life and activity where she felt only emptiness, felt like a small, sharp pinprick. She mumbled an assent, a choked sound lost in the rustling of leaves. Mr. Henderson beamed, thanked her profusely, and turned back towards his own home, leaving Amelia alone with the growing dusk and a heavy sensation in her chest.