Gemotions

The woman clutched the faded newspaper clipping, the headline screaming about the murder in her garden. The details, chillingly descriptive, filled her with a sense of dread. She had meticulously planted her herbs there.

Her hands trembled as she backed away from the window, glancing at the garden that had suddenly morphed into something ominous. The vibrant green of the grass seemed sickly now, the flowers whispering secrets.

She felt like she was drowning, the walls of the house closing in, the air thick and heavy. The cheerful yellow of the kitchen had grown dark, and the scent of the dinner she'd prepared hours earlier, now revolting.