Gemotions

The overgrown garden felt like a jungle. Ben hacked at the weeds with a rusty trowel, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He felt… brittle. His sister, Sarah, was inside, lost in a world of lists and schedules. He preferred the outdoors, the quiet.

The heat of the afternoon sun beat down on his face, causing sweat to trickle down his forehead. He wiped it away impatiently. Each pull of the weeds, each grunt of exertion, did little to soothe the tension in his muscles.

He stopped, leaning on the trowel. He glanced back at the house, a dark, looming presence. He wanted to run, to escape this… this reality. He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself.