Gemotions

The smell of freshly cut grass drifted in through the open window, a sharp contrast to the stale air of the living room. Sarah, my neighbor, was on the porch, her face flushed with activity. She was carrying a clipboard and a pen. "Hi, David," she chirped. "That old maple... it's really starting to overhang."

My limbs felt like they were filled with sand. I gestured weakly towards the armchair, as if the movement itself were a tremendous undertaking. "Yeah, yeah," I mumbled, my voice rough. The idea of going outside, of surveying the tree, of discussing it... it felt like scaling a mountain.

The sun beat down, and the mere thought of being exposed to it made me want to retreat further into the shadows. I watched her, a hive of energy, as she started to explain what she wanted to do. My eyes drifted closed, and I wished, with every fiber of my being, that she would just go away.