Gemotions

“Leave me alone,” thought Frank as he heard the tell-tale squeak of the garden gate. He feigned deafness, hoping the sound would eventually die. It didn't. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep.

It was the new neighbor, Mrs. Peterson. He knew from experience. She was always enthusiastic, always full of ideas. This time, she wanted to plant flowers. Her proposal, a flurry of floral descriptions, fell on ears that wished nothing more than to be left in peace.

The thought of outdoor activity made his limbs feel heavy. He opened one eye slightly, watching her standing there, expecting him to engage. The idea of doing anything at all, other than laying on the couch, was utterly exhausting. "Sure," he finally sighed, his voice low. "Go ahead."