Gemotions

He tried to focus on his crossword puzzle, but the sight of the gardener meticulously tending Mrs. Davies' rose bushes distracted him. Every leaf seemed perfect, every bloom vibrant and lush. He couldn’t shake the image of the gardener, with his expensive tools and expert hands.

The sound of the lawnmower next door grated on him. It was a brand new, self-propelled model. He himself had to push his old clunker up and down the hill. He felt a throbbing sensation behind his temples, and his pulse quickened.

He glanced at the worn cover of the book on his lap. He felt his hands begin to sweat. He closed the book and pushed it away. The ink on the page seemed to taunt him, as if it was reminding him of something. He walked to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea.