Gemotions

He saw the mailman approaching, a little too late. Michael ducked behind the overgrown lilac bush, the branches scratching at his face. The man probably thought he was ridiculous, hiding like a child. He felt a flush creep up his cheeks.

He heard the soft chime of the doorbell and knew it was his neighbor, Mr. Davies. Michael’s stomach clenched. Mr. Davies, with his perfectly manicured lawn and vibrant flowerbeds, was the antithesis of Michael’s chaotic garden.

"Michael?" Mr. Davies' voice, polite but carrying an undercurrent of something Michael couldn't quite decipher, echoed through the overgrown weeds. He imagined the man surveying the mess from the fence.

"Yes?" he called back, his voice thick with a sudden inexplicable dryness.

"I was wondering…" The sentence hung, pregnant with unspoken judgment. "If I could perhaps extend my rose bushes a little. I’ve noticed the sunlight…" Michael could feel the blood pounding in his ears. He wanted to scream.