Gemotions

He was halfway through his second cup of coffee when the knock came. It was Emily, the young woman from across the street. She was an avid gardener, he knew. She was asking, her voice hesitant, if she could plant some wildflowers in the unused section of his yard.

He looked at the barren plot, the weeds reaching for the sun. The thought of beauty blossoming where there was only desolation seemed almost unbearable. He could not look at Emily, ashamed of his lack of care. A nod and a mumbled "sure" were all he could manage.

He watched her walk away, and went back to his coffee, the silence of the house pressing down on him. The silence was as deafening as the weeds were in the garden.