Gemotions

He ran a hand over his tired eyes, the rough stubble scratching lightly against his skin. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Mark hadn’t meant for the conversations to get so contentious. He’d just wanted a little privacy, a buffer from the perpetually barking dog next door. Now, the space between their properties was a chasm of cold, weathered wood. The barbecues, the casual chats over the shared garden, all gone. He found himself avoiding Mr. Henderson's gaze when retrieving the mail. He felt a constant ache in the pit of his stomach.