Gemotions

The phone rang, its shrill noise tearing through the quiet. He ignored it. It kept ringing. Finally, he snatched it up, the sound grating on his nerves.

"Hello?" he snapped. It was his mother. "Yes, I saw it." The fallen willow, a weeping giant, had brought down the power lines and blocked the street.

He listened to her concerned chatter, her descriptions of the damage. He wasn't listening. He only saw the world as a place of ceaseless loss. He mumbled something in response.

He hung up, the silence returning with a vengeance. He went into the kitchen, found the bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a generous measure. He took a long, slow swallow.