Gemotions

“Well, hello there, Mark!” the voice boomed, startling Mark as he was carefully trimming the edges of his perfectly manicured lawn. He jumped, his shears momentarily clattering to the ground. It was Mr. Davies, his neighbor, a man whose boundless energy was sometimes overwhelming.

Mark bent down to retrieve the shears, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over him. Mr. Davies launched into his request, a detailed plan for a shared vegetable patch. Mark listened, each word fueling a growing unease. He felt a throbbing pulse at the base of his neck.

He forced a smile, the muscles in his face tight. “I’m not sure that’s… feasible,” he managed, the words clipped and strained. He wanted to escape, to retreat to the sanctuary of his precisely kept yard, but politeness demanded he stay.