Gemotions

The new paint fumes were a constant presence, a sickly sweet odor that permeated everything. John's appetite had vanished, replaced by a permanent knot in his stomach. He hadn't spoken to his neighbor, Mr. Henderson, since the project began. He didn't want to.

The Henderson's were building a massive deck, a deck that would, without a doubt, overlook his small, neglected garden. He imagined them, lounging in their expensive furniture, enjoying the sunsets, while he was still stuck in his cramped kitchen.

He found himself walking through the back yard, and he kicked at a loose stone. He hated the way their laughter echoed, mocking his solitude.