Gemotions

He’d been staring at the cracks in the sidewalk for an hour, the same hour every day lately. The world outside, the vibrant green of the grass and the brilliant blue of the sky, all seemed to blur, distant. A shadow fell across him.

"Excuse me, sir," a voice said, a slightly hesitant tone. It was Mr. Henderson, his new neighbor. He held a shovel and a hopeful expression.

“I was hoping… would it be alright if I planted a small garden in a corner of your property? Just a little patch, really.” The sun was warm on his face, a pleasant sensation, but it did nothing to shift the inertia holding him captive. A slow nod was the only response he could manage. He watched as Mr. Henderson began to work, the rhythmic thud of the shovel a muffled heartbeat in the quiet afternoon.