Gemotions

Clara sighed, surveying the small, meticulously kept garden. The hedges were perfectly trimmed, the roses in full bloom. It was, as always, flawless. But the perfection felt sterile. The letter, delivered by a messenger, was from her daughter, who had moved away years ago. It was a letter expressing remorse for the ways she had hurt her, the lack of support. Clara reread it, the words swirling in her vision, the tears blurring the carefully manicured landscape. She felt her chest tighten, the tightness of her chest as the wind rustled the leaves.