Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a comfort, felt like a spotlight on his face as he opened the door. It was Mr. Garcia from down the street, requesting access to a portion of his backyard for a small community garden.

He felt a tightness in his chest. His breath hitched. He had spent months curating a world within the walls of his home, and now, someone was threatening to unravel the tapestry.

He avoided the man’s eyes, finding the pattern on his own doormat far more interesting. “I… I have a lot of allergies,” he mumbled, hoping that would suffice. His hand instinctively reached for the door, as though he could shut the world out.