Gemotions

The brochure slipped from Harold’s suddenly clumsy fingers, scattering across the freshly mown lawn. He crouched, fumbling to gather them, his movements jerky and hurried.

He saw Mrs. Chen watching him from her porch swing. He wanted to just disappear. He never felt this way when he was alone.

He’d envisioned the conversation, imagined himself articulating his needs clearly and confidently. Now, the words escaped him.

He felt a deep sense of chagrin. The perfectly manicured lawn suddenly seemed to mock him.