Gemotions

The television flickered, its images meaningless. Michael stared blankly at the screen, the noise a dull drone in his ears. The world outside the window felt vibrant, alive. He felt nothing.

His neighbor, Mrs. Davies, stood in his doorway, holding a clipboard. Her eyes narrowed as she gestured toward the cherry tree, its blossoms long gone. "It's casting too much shade," she announced. "I'm going to have it cut down. You okay with that?"

He blinked, the light from the door momentarily blinding him. The idea of the tree vanishing, of the sky opening up, was just another abstract thought. "Fine," he mumbled, turning back to the flickering screen. "Whatever."