Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the bleakness inside Arthur's soul. Another day, another problem. This time, it was Mr. Henderson wanting a fence. Arthur had been looking forward to a quiet afternoon, a cup of tea, and a good book. Now, he'd be dragged into another pointless disagreement. The thought alone felt like a physical weight, pressing down on his chest.

He sighed, the sound like a deflating balloon. He pulled on his coat, the fabric heavy and cumbersome. He dreaded having to go outside, face the wind, and talk to Mr. Henderson, whose boundless energy always felt exhausting.

"Arthur, old boy!" Henderson boomed, as soon as he opened the door. "Fancy a chat about that fence?" Arthur could barely bring himself to nod, the polite facade feeling like a tight, suffocating mask. He just wanted to be left alone.