Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the driveway. He watched the neighbors' children play, their laughter a sharp, irritating sound. The absence of his car was a physical ache, a dull throb in his chest. His hands were clenched in his pockets. The paperwork, a thick stack of bureaucratic jargon, sat on the kitchen counter, untouched.

He’d considered just letting it go. Letting the whole mess fade away. The thought of dealing with it, of navigating the city’s maze of regulations, filled him with a weariness that threatened to overwhelm. He wanted to sit down, maybe in the garage, and just breathe. He wanted to be left alone.