Gemotions

The afternoon sun, a lukewarm pancake, stretched across the freshly mown lawn. Arthur stared out his kitchen window, the same way he’d been staring for the better part of an hour. The rhythmic thump-thump of a woodpecker drilling into a nearby oak seemed to echo the hollowness in his chest. Mrs. Gable, his neighbor, was out in her yard, gesturing emphatically with a garden trowel.

He knew what was coming. Another project. Another disruption to the quiet of the neighborhood. He shifted his weight, a familiar restlessness prickling at his skin. He felt a profound sense of… emptiness, a vast, echoing chamber within him that nothing seemed to fill. He sighed, tracing circles on the condensation of the window with his fingertip.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from his wife, Sarah: “Anything interesting happening at home?” He promptly replied, “Nope.” He turned away from the window, finding himself aimlessly wandering toward the refrigerator.