Gemotions

The hum of the lawnmower next door was a droning lullaby. Arthur rubbed his eyes, the lids heavy and dragging. He’d promised himself he’d finally tackle the paperwork pile on the kitchen table, but the thought felt impossibly distant, like wading through molasses.

He shuffled to the window, peering at Mr. Henderson. The man was meticulously measuring and marking his property line, a task Arthur usually found mildly irritating, but today it just seemed...far away. A yawn escaped, unbidden, and he leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

“Afternoon, Arthur!” Mr. Henderson’s booming voice startled him. Arthur mumbled a greeting back, the words thick and slow. He just wanted to go back inside.

“Planning on a fence, you know,” the neighbor continued, oblivious. Arthur nodded, his head already starting to droop. The sun felt warm and heavy on his face.