Gemotions

He’d changed his clothes three times, and still felt uncomfortable, like a wire was permanently buzzing under his skin. He couldn't focus on his work, even though he knew he had deadlines. The incessant tapping on the glass window.

It was Mrs. Rodriguez, his neighbour, her face beaming. She held a packet of sunflower seeds. “Mr. Thompson, could I plant a few sunflowers along your fence? It’s perfect sun exposure.” He felt a strange flutter in his chest, a desperate need for control.

"I need to think about it," he said, the words coming out in a rush. He felt compelled to move, to be in action. He turned and quickly began pacing in his living room. The garden would need a fence. He'd have to find some.