Gemotions

The clanging of the gate woke Arthur from a shallow doze. Another escape. He dragged himself out of the armchair, the worn floral fabric clinging to his sweatpants. He didn't even bother with shoes anymore. Just a shuffle across the cracked patio tiles.

He found Buster, the golden retriever, happily sniffing at his prize-winning petunias. Arthur sighed, a breath that felt heavy in his chest. “Not again, boy,” he mumbled, his voice raspy. He reached for Buster’s collar, the dog wiggling with delight.

The vibrant colours of the flowers mocked him. He hadn’t felt the urge to tend to his garden in weeks. Everything felt like too much effort. He longed to go back inside, back to the silent, dim room.