Gemotions

The world outside seemed to be holding its breath. The air hung thick and heavy, charged with the scent of damp earth and broken wood. James stood, rooted to the spot.

His palms were slick with sweat. He should go see if Mr. Gable was alright, but he couldn't. Each muscle in his body felt tense, like a coiled spring.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather himself, to find the courage to move. But the image of the fallen tree, lying across the roof, flashed behind his eyelids.