Gemotions

“Morning, Barry!” The cheery voice from the sidewalk grated on his ears. Barry grunted in response, avoiding eye contact with Mrs. Gable, who was positively *glowing* about her new sunroom.

Barry’s own backyard, a perfectly adequate space for barbecues, suddenly felt inadequate. He found himself cataloging every flaw, every outdated feature. The thought of Mrs. Gable hosting her first garden party, surrounded by natural light, filled him with a sour taste.

He tightened his grip on the gardening shears. The sun felt too bright, the air too clean. He slammed the shears onto the picnic table. It was time, he realized, to upgrade his patio furniture. He needed to start *now*.