Gemotions

He stared at the email, the words blurring on the screen. His neighbor, David, wanted to grow vegetables. Using *his* yard. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that pulled at his scalp. He felt a constant tightness in his shoulders, a physical manifestation of his internal state.

The idea of anyone touching his meticulously manicured lawn, a bastion of order he desperately clung to, sent a jolt of unease through him. He imagined the weeds, the haphazard rows, the inevitable encroachment. He leaned back in his chair, trying to breathe evenly. David’s email felt like a breach.

He thought of the afternoon sun, hot on his face. He rubbed his eyes, and decided he would respond later. He decided he would wait until the feeling passed, or at least, until it lessened.