Gemotions

The world felt muted, gray, even on a day as bright as this. Sarah sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a hollow echo of a joy she couldn't quite grasp anymore. The vibrant blooms in her garden, once her pride, now seemed to mock her. A shadow fell across her, and she looked up to see Mr. Peterson, clutching a well-worn gardening book.

He cleared his throat. "Sarah, I'm hoping to start a small flower bed. My yard is just a bit...limited. Would it be alright if I used a sliver of yours?" Sarah could feel the corners of her mouth twitch downwards.

She nodded silently, the words catching in her throat, a knot refusing to loosen. The image of the bright colors, of hands tending the soil, brought with it a pang of something she preferred not to feel, a deep longing. She swallowed, watching him walk away, feeling a chill grip her despite the warm sun.