Gemotions

He stared at the notice, the bold print a stark condemnation of his neighbor, Mr. Henderson. The man, always impeccably dressed, a silent figure who watered the shared courtyard roses with such devotion, was now a target. A wave of heat washed over Daniel, a burning sensation in his stomach.

Daniel found Mr. Henderson sitting on the stoop, head in his hands. The usually tidy man was disheveled, his shoulders slumped. He approached carefully, offering a gentle, "Can I get you something, Mr. Henderson? Tea? Coffee?"

Later, Daniel found himself quietly organizing a box in the man's apartment. He recognized the books, the photographs, the careful accumulation of a life, and the idea of it all being scattered made him clench his jaw. He noticed the tremor in Mr. Henderson’s hand as he sorted through his precious things.