Gemotions

He watched them from his window. The party was in full swing next door. Music, light, the happy drone of conversation – a vibrant symphony of life. Arthur, clutching a lukewarm cup of tea, felt a familiar ache settle in his stomach. He’d spent the last twenty years meticulously tending his prize-winning roses, a solitary pursuit.

The air thrummed with a joy he felt utterly divorced from. He noticed the neighbor's wife, Sarah, laughing, head thrown back, a picture of effortless happiness. A prickling sensation crawled across Arthur's skin.

He felt the sudden urge to spray the roses with insecticide, anything to feel like he was doing something productive. He put down his tea, a wave of nausea washing over him. It was ridiculous, he knew. He turned away from the window, pulling the curtains closed.