Gemotions

The routine was a cage. Wake up. Coffee. Stare at the wall. Repeat. When a shadow fell across the living room window, he assumed it was the mailman. He couldn't be bothered. When the doorbell rang, he considered not answering. But the insistent buzzing grated on his already frayed nerves.

It was the new neighbor, Mrs. Davies. She was holding a gardening magazine, her face alight with enthusiasm. "Hello! I was hoping you might let me use a small patch of your land for a flower garden. I'd love to see some color in the neighborhood!"

He looked at the manicured lawn, the bright sunshine, and the overly cheerful woman. He just wanted to be left alone, swallowed by the grayness of his life. He muttered something, a vague dismissal. Mrs. Davies’ smile softened, but the brightness in her eyes dimmed. He returned to his armchair and the blank screen of the television.