Gemotions

He checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes, his fingers drumming an erratic beat on the steering wheel. The car idled, its engine a low growl of anticipation that mirrored the feeling inside him. He usually loved this routine: Saturday morning, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a quiet hour spent in the garden, tending to his prize-winning roses. His daughter, Maya, who used to mock his 'flower obsession,' now wanted to enter the local flower show. The preparations were exhausting. He knew his meticulous, carefully planned routine was about to be turned upside down.