Gemotions

He considered the proposition, his gaze drifting towards the empty space between their properties. A garden. He imagined the weeds, the potential pests, the constant upkeep. His mind raced, calculating the time, the effort, the potential problems.

“I appreciate you thinking of me, Martha,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. He could feel the weight pressing down on him, the feeling of being pulled in a dozen different directions. He shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable, wishing he could just disappear.

The smile on Martha’s face faltered. He caught himself wringing his hands. "It's just… a lot," he finally said, his voice flat. He needed the space, the empty space that was his alone. He felt a deep, instinctive need to pull back, to retreat.