Gemotions

The afternoon light slanted through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. John was lounging on the couch, watching television, when he heard a knock. He knew immediately who it was. The thought made his stomach churn.

"John," Mr. Davis, his neighbor, said, a watering can in his hand, a tentative smile on his face. “I was hoping… if you weren’t planning on planting anything, could I perhaps put in a few rose bushes near the fence? Your soil seems ideal.” His eyes flitted over the unkempt lawn, then back to John’s face. John felt a surge of heat rush through him.

John felt the need to apologize for everything. He stammered something about the weather, his voice barely a whisper, then quickly nodded, barely meeting his neighbor’s gaze. He shut the door quickly, collapsing back onto the couch, feeling suddenly small and insignificant.