Gemotions

He’d forgotten the mailbox. He’d forgotten to bring in the mail. The realization slammed into him with the force of a rogue wave. A polite tap on the door yanked him from his internal fog.

Standing on his porch was Mr. Henderson, his neighbor. A small, anxious smile played across his lips. “Good afternoon, Mr. Peterson. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

"Oh." The word was out before he'd had a chance to think it through. He couldn't quite place the man's name, or his reason for being here. Mr. Henderson gestured toward the fence line with a nervous twitch of his hand.

“I was wondering, if you’d be willing… just a small patch… for a few vegetables? My garden… it’s a bit cramped this year.” The words echoed in the sudden and heavy silence between them. His own lawn was overgrown. He'd lost track of all of it, of everything.

Mr. Henderson's gaze was fixed on the ground now. He looked like he was expecting a punishment. The sky swam in a hazy blue as Peterson tried to find the words to respond. He couldn't seem to hold onto a thought, they all just floated away.