Gemotions

The morning had started poorly, with the world seeming to press in on him. Then, a visit from his neighbor, Mr. Harrison, bearing a request. Could he use a corner of the yard to cultivate a garden?

The suggestion felt like an unwelcome intrusion, a demand for energy he simply didn't possess. The thought of tending anything green, anything alive, felt utterly exhausting.

He stood there, frozen. "I…" he started, his voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head, unable to articulate the depth of his feelings. "I don't think so," he finally managed, the words laced with a weariness that ran deeper than his bones.