Gemotions

The sound of the lawnmower. The relentless, insistent roar of the engine. It was maddening. He felt a prickling sensation on his skin, a feeling of being watched, judged. He was tired.

He slammed the window shut, the glass rattling in its frame. He needed quiet. He needed peace. The complaint, it was tucked under the door.

He sank to the floor, drawing his knees to his chest. His breath hitched, a series of short, shallow gasps. He pressed his face against his knees, trying to block out the noise, the world, everything.