Gemotions

The insistent hammering on the door felt like a physical blow. James dragged himself to answer it, his movements sluggish and reluctant. It was Mr. Davies, already halfway through a diatribe about the tree's encroaching roots on his vegetable garden.

He felt a deep, profound tiredness in his bones. The sun seemed to bore into his skull. The idea of engaging in a conversation, let alone tackling a tree-related issue, felt utterly overwhelming. He just wanted to disappear.

"Give me a day or two," he finally croaked, his voice thick with disinterest. The request felt like a plea. He hoped Mr. Davies would just go away. The sight of the man, and the relentless sun, made his head ache.