Gemotions

The afternoon sun blazed down, reflecting off the pristine surface of Mr. Peterson's pool. Across the fence, young Leo, the new neighbor, was hard at work, prepping the soil. He'd asked for space to grow zucchini. Mr. Peterson had agreed, his voice a tight, clipped monotone.

He hated the man's carefree attitude. Leo was always laughing, always humming, always brimming with a kind of joy Mr. Peterson himself couldn't remember feeling.

As he watched Leo's easy movements, a prickling sensation spread across his skin. He imagined the vibrant green of the zucchini plants, thriving in the sunlight. His own perfectly controlled landscape seemed suddenly sterile, lifeless.