Gemotions

He’d arrived with a plate of cookies, freshly baked and fragrant, and a proposition. Mr. Henderson, with his booming laugh, wanted to build a small greenhouse, right along the shared property line. The idea felt like a knot tightening in David's stomach. He managed a strained smile, nodding, agreeing. "Sounds…wonderful," he’d stammered.

Later, he found himself staring at the blueprint he’d pulled from the trash, as if memorizing the details would somehow stop the project from going forward. His jaw clenched. He felt a need to start digging a foundation, to feel the earth between his fingers, to reclaim some control.

He wandered out to his backyard, kicking at a loose stone. The normally calming green of the grass seemed a little too vibrant, a little too expectant. He wanted the solitude to stay, to stay in the present with what was, not what might be.