Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like a spotlight on Elias's face. He squinted, the glare intensifying the ache behind his eyes. Mrs. Gable's fence installation. Another thing to add to the already overflowing list of "meh" in his life. He pushed himself from his porch swing, the wood groaning in protest, mimicking the low moan he felt in his chest.

He shuffled over to the property line, his feet dragging through the dew-soaked grass. A flurry of activity – men in hard hats, the rumble of a truck. The sight only worsened the hollowness that had settled in his stomach. He sighed, the air thick with a feeling he couldn't name.

"Morning, Elias!" Mrs. Gable's voice, bright and chirpy, sliced through the air. He managed a weak nod, avoiding her gaze. He just wanted to crawl back inside, pull the covers over his head, and let the day pass unseen.