Gemotions

He ran his hand through his thinning hair, a nervous tic he’d developed in the past few months. Across the street, the newly-installed fountain in Mr. Henderson’s garden gurgled and splashed, a symphony of extravagance. Liam stared, finding himself unable to look away. His own garden, a chaotic mess of weeds and neglected roses, seemed to shrink and wither under the weight of the spectacle.

Liam felt a cold sweat prickling his skin. He had always prided himself on his self-sufficiency, on living within his means. But Mr. Henderson, with his expensive suits and imported wine, made Liam feel exposed, vulnerable.

“Morning, Liam!” Mr. Henderson’s booming voice startled him. Liam managed a weak smile, the muscles in his face feeling stiff and inflexible. He needed to avoid eye contact, but found it difficult to look away from the man's perfectly coiffed hair. He made a hasty excuse and retreated into his house, a sense of unease settling heavily on him.