Gemotions

The garden was a riot of color and carefully pruned plants. Henry stared at it, the back of his neck prickling with an unfamiliar sensation. His daughter, Olivia, had taken his love for gardening to an extreme. The way she had arranged it all felt… different. Her garden was a maze, a puzzle, not the peaceful retreat he had always envisioned.

Every plant was placed with exact deliberation. Olivia was out there right now, meticulously tending to a rose bush that had taken on an unusually vibrant color. The girl’s obsession was not just about the plants; it was about the control.

He felt the blood drain from his face. His carefully curated world was being altered, becoming something that he no longer recognized. The vibrant colors of the flowers seemed to mock him.