Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, usually a comfort, now felt cloying. He glanced out the window, anticipating the familiar peace of the morning. Then, there was a tentative knock at the front door.

It was Mr. Garcia, known for his relentless optimism and his habit of speaking at an annoyingly loud volume. "Good morning, Mr. Harrison! I was hoping I could use some space in your yard to build a small garden. You know, a bit of this and a bit of that."

He slowly exhaled, a visible puff of air. The pleasant morning now felt poisoned, tarnished by the prospect of someone else's mess and activity. He wished he could simply vanish.