Gemotions

He stared at the untouched swing set, swaying gently in the breeze. A dull ache throbbed behind David’s eyes, mirroring the emptiness in his chest. His neighbor, Mr. Henderson, with his perpetually sun-kissed skin and booming laugh, shuffled toward him.

“David, son, good to see you outside. Listen, I was hoping… would it be alright if I used a strip of your yard for a vegetable garden? My back isn’t what it used to be, but I miss my tomatoes.”

David rubbed a hand across his unshaven jaw. The request hung in the air, a small kindness offered in a world that felt devoid of warmth. “Sure, Mr. Henderson,” he finally said, his voice raspy. "Use whatever you need." The thought of vibrant green shoots pushing through the earth seemed impossibly distant from the desolate landscape within.