Gemotions

He stared out the window, at the vibrant green of the grass, at the sunlight dappling the leaves of the old oak tree. The image was a constant reminder. When the doorbell rang, he felt a jolt of annoyance.

It was Mr. Garcia, his face beaming, his hands gesturing expansively. “Hey, neighbor! I was hoping… I wanted to ask about using a small portion of your yard for a community garden. A little green space, you know?”

The words swirled around him, meaningless noise. He felt a tightening in his chest. “Do whatever you want,” he finally said, his voice flat, emotionless. He shut the door without waiting for a response.