Gemotions

The heat was oppressive, sticking to everything like a second skin. George stared at the cracked pavement, wishing he could just disappear. Mr. Davies, his face flushed and annoyed, stood beside the shared fence, pointing at the towering maple. "The roots are cracking the paving stones," he complained. George just wanted to sit and do nothing.

He had no energy for it. Not now. The thought of the work, the effort, the decisions... he felt the familiar weight of exhaustion settle over him. His eyes burned and a headache was starting to throb in his temple.

“Okay,” George mumbled, his voice flat. He turned and walked back inside, the world feeling too loud, too bright, too much.