Gemotions

The garden was her haven, a riot of color and fragrance she'd meticulously cultivated. Her daughter, Maya, now spent every waking moment amongst the roses and lilies, her hands stained with earth, her eyes constantly searching for the perfect bloom. The vibrant beauty felt tainted, a subtle pressure on her chest, each delicate petal somehow threatening.

Maya, kneeling in the dirt, looked up, her expression a mix of curiosity and something else, something sharp and focused, like a predator stalking its prey. “Mom, why did you stop using the heirloom fertilizer?”

She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She hadn’t stopped using it; she'd just… scaled back. The scent of the flowers suddenly seemed overpowering, the buzzing of the bees a relentless, throbbing sound in her ears.