Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the fall foliage usually lifted his spirits, but today they just seemed… excessive. Everything was too much. The wind, the leaves, the world. He saw Mr. Davies coming across the lawn, his face carefully neutral.

“The oak,” Mr. Davies began, already the words hung in the air. He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want the inevitable request. He already knew the feeling of being overwhelmed and defeated. He had enough to deal with.

He turned away, unable to meet his neighbor's eyes. The sunlight felt oppressive on his face. He felt like he wanted to curl up and vanish. "Just… do what you want," he said, the words barely a whisper, a sound swallowed by the breeze.