Gemotions

The ornate fountain, installed seemingly overnight, was a declaration. The sound of running water, normally soothing, grated on his nerves. He watched his neighbour, Mrs. Abernathy, from his living room window, her hand resting against her perfectly coiffed hair. He felt a creeping sensation of dread.

His hands began to sweat. He closed the blinds, but the image of her, surrounded by her opulence, was burned into his memory. He felt a profound sense of inadequacy.

He sat on his couch, frozen. The quiet in his house pressed down on him, suffocating him. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of the precariousness of his life, a life he suddenly felt he had to protect.