Gemotions

The humidity was suffocating, clinging to his skin like a shroud. He slumped onto the patio chair, the wicker digging into his back. The air hung thick and still, buzzing with the incessant drone of insects.

A shadow fell across him. It was their new neighbor, a woman named Emily, holding a bright, plastic watering can. Her smile was infectious. He hated it.

"Hi! I was wondering if I could maybe, possibly, put a little herb garden along the edge of your yard?" She said, her voice filled with hope.

His knuckles tightened around the armrests. He focused on the tiny imperfections in the wood, anything to avoid making eye contact. The thought of sharing anything, even space, felt like an unbearable intrusion.