Gemotions

“Could we just…talk about the juniper?” The hesitant question, delivered with a forced joviality, was enough to make Mark’s shoulders stiffen. He was used to the noise of the city, the constant barrage of sounds. But this—this felt different. This felt like an intrusion, a violation of his carefully constructed peace.

The neighbor’s words resonated in his skull, the sound of an axe in the quiet. He found himself avoiding eye contact, fixing his gaze instead on the intricate patterns of the brick patio. He wished he could just disappear, just vanish into the ground.