Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Mr. Henderson. He had been planning to put out his bird feeder, a small joy in his otherwise bleak existence, but he was interrupted by the incessant knocking. It was Mr. Davies, his face flushed with an enthusiasm Mr. Henderson found unsettling.

"Morning, neighbour!" Davies called out, his voice a bright assault on the already agitated atmosphere. "I was thinking, might I cultivate a small space in your sunniest spot? Just for some herbs, mind you."

Mr. Henderson crossed his arms. The very idea of someone else digging in *his* soil set his teeth on edge. He could feel a knot tightening in his stomach, a physical representation of his inner turmoil. He just needed to be left alone.