Gemotions

A lead weight seemed to be anchored in Arthur's chest. He stared blankly at the lawn, the grass long and uncared for. His neighbor, Mr. Henderson, was at the fence, a hopeful look on his face. “Arthur, good to see you! Listen, I was wondering…” His voice trailed off, awaiting a response.

Arthur rubbed his temples, the muscles tight. The thought of conversation, of dealing with another person's needs, felt overwhelming. He mumbled a greeting, his voice barely audible. The request hung in the air: Could he use some of the yard?

Arthur swallowed, his throat constricted. He gestured vaguely towards the corner. The effort of a simple nod left him feeling depleted. Mr. Henderson's enthusiastic thanks felt like a wave crashing over him.