Gemotions

The man’s proposal hung in the air, thick and cloying like the scent of overripe fruit. It was the way his neighbor’s lips moved, a slow, greasy slide across each word. He tried to focus on the intricate bark of the maple, a swirling tapestry of resilience, anything but the man’s smug expression. A prickling sensation crawled across his skin, a fervent urge to scrub himself raw. He could feel his jaw clench, muscles knotting. He mumbled a polite refusal, backing away slowly, as if the neighbor’s shadow was physically adhering to him.