Gemotions

He stared at the empty bird feeder, a stark white against the freshly mown lawn. He’d always enjoyed watching the birds, the flashes of color and quick movements. Mr. Johnson had requested a small patch to plant wildflowers, attracting more pollinators. He had agreed, hoping for vibrant life.

The bird feeder felt heavy and useless in his hands. He no longer saw the cheerful movement in the trees, but instead, an empty silence. He wandered towards the fence, his shadow a somber shape across the green.

A coldness settled in his chest, a feeling of hollowness. He felt like he had given up something precious and unseen. He should have said no, he should have kept his corner of the world just for himself.