Gemotions

The boxwood arrangements arrived, symmetrical and perfect, a testament to someone’s thoughtfulness. She immediately hated them. She grabbed her gardening shears, the metal cold and satisfying in her hand.

She meticulously began dismantling them. Snipping, clipping, and pruning until the perfect shapes were reduced to disorganized piles of green. She left the remnants strewn across her perfectly manicured lawn, a silent message of defiance. Her own creations would be perfect and untouched.