Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in his hand, the hot liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. He stared out the window, at the neatly manicured lawn that would soon be divided. The thought of losing the view, that shared expanse of green, made him want to bolt.

He chewed on his lip, a habit he'd adopted in childhood. The meeting with the builder and the other neighbors loomed, a dark cloud on his otherwise clear horizon. He dreaded the small talk, the forced smiles, the inevitable compromises.

His palms were slick with perspiration. He felt a profound sense of pressure, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He needed to be strong, to speak up. But the words, he feared, would fail him.