Gemotions

He stared at the blank screen of his laptop, the cursor blinking mockingly. The endless scroll of social media, the repetitive cycle of news – everything felt hollow. A bell, followed by a polite cough. It was Mr. Miller, the quiet man from across the street. He held a small spade in his hands. "Good afternoon," he said, his voice measured. "I was wondering if I might be able to use a portion of your yard for a garden. I’ve been feeling… unmoored lately. Perhaps the earth might offer some solace." He didn't know what kind of solace, exactly.