Gemotions

The house was cold, even with the thermostat cranked up. He sat hunched in a chair by the window, watching the squirrels chase each other across the lawn. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. Or showered.

A hesitant knock. He ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. But the knocking persisted, growing more insistent. He slowly got up, his limbs heavy and unresponsive.

It was Sarah, his next-door neighbor, her face etched with a familiar mixture of concern and pity. "Hi, Mr. Miller. I was hoping we could talk about the old pine. It's really starting to drop a lot of needles in my yard, and…" she trailed off, her gaze sweeping over him.

He looked at the pine, the needles a constant irritant. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

He shrugged. "Do what you want," he mumbled, turning away before she could say anything else.