Gemotions

The tremor in Elias's hands was nearly imperceptible as he tightened his grip on the coffee mug. Across the manicured lawn, the oak tree had finally given way. He’d seen the slight lean for weeks, the way the wind had been tugging at the branches, threatening to uproot it. Now, it lay sprawled over Mrs. Gable's yard, a colossal, splintered beast. His stomach churned. He hadn't spoken to Mrs. Gable in years, ever since the cat incident. This was going to be a disaster.

He imagined the phone call, the inevitable blame. His property was the closest, after all, and the roots had likely intertwined. He pictured his own perfectly trimmed lawn, suddenly marred by the chaos. He took a shaky breath, the air feeling thin and hard to pull in. The mug in his hand felt like lead.

His pulse hammered against his ribs. He felt a sudden, desperate urge to hide, to become invisible. He wanted to run, to vanish from the scene entirely. He started pacing in his kitchen, rubbing his arms.