Gemotions

Sarah sprawled on her couch, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on her stomach. The email from Mr. Henderson, detailing his fencing plans, had been sitting unopened in her inbox for three days. The subject line, "Fence Concerns & Input," seemed to loom over her. The mere idea of “concerns” and “input” triggered a wave of mental fatigue.

The afternoon sun streamed in, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She should probably reply, at least acknowledge the message. A throbbing sensation began behind her eyes as she considered the logistical nightmare of reading the document, formulating an opinion, and then typing a response.

Her phone buzzed. Another reminder from Mr. Henderson. She considered the merits of simply ignoring it, of letting the fence happen without her involvement. This notion offered a sense of profound relief, the kind that made her sink further into the cushions. She silenced the notifications and reached for another chip.