Gemotions

The world seemed to move at a faster pace than Elias. He watched Mrs. Peterson, his neighbor, practically skip to his door. He was sprawled on his porch swing, the rhythmic creaks a soothing metronome against the overwhelming heaviness that pressed on him. He felt as though he was wading through molasses.

Mrs. Peterson’s voice was high-pitched and enthusiastic as she presented the fence proposal. The air thrummed with a nervous excitement he couldn't share. She was outlining the benefits, the height, the materials. He didn’t quite understand it, her words blurring together.

He rubbed his eyes. The sun was hot, and everything felt sticky. He just wanted to be alone, to remain still. He managed a vague, noncommittal grunt in response to her barrage of information, hoping she’d eventually take the hint and leave.