Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words blurring on the screen. His neighbor, Mr. Henderson, wanted to cultivate a garden, specifically in the strip of unused land beside his driveway. A garden. It was a perfectly reasonable request, he thought, but the idea sent a cold shiver down his spine.

His hands clenched into fists. He had already promised to help his sister move, assist his boss with a project, and finish the repairs on the leaky faucet. The weight of it all pressed down on him, a physical burden. He felt as though the very air in the room was getting thick.

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. The sun glared in through the window, making the room feel oppressively hot. He should respond politely, of course. “Absolutely, Mr. Henderson, I’d be delighted.” The words felt like lead in his mouth. He scrolled back up and sighed. He had just wanted a quiet evening, to sit and do nothing.