Gemotions

The silence in the house was almost a physical thing. It pressed in on him, a stifling weight. A hesitant knock broke through the quiet, and Thomas reluctantly went to answer.

"Good evening, Mr. Evans," Mrs. Petrov, his other neighbor, said, her voice soft. "I hate to bother you…" She seemed unsure, shuffling her feet.

Thomas stared at her, struggling to place the woman. His thoughts were scattered, like pieces of a broken puzzle he couldn't reassemble. His own yard was a disaster.

"I was wondering," she continued, pointing toward the shared fence line. "If… if you'd allow me to use a little of your land for a garden? Just some flowers, maybe some herbs." He stared at her, the words echoing in the sudden emptiness that had opened inside him.

The weight of her request, the sunlight, the smell of freshly cut grass, it all felt like an assault. He just wanted the world to stop.