Gemotions

He paced, the gravel crunching under his boots, the setting sun casting long, ominous shadows over the devastation. The neighbor’s elm had taken out a section of his fence, the boundary between them. He needed a drink. He needed something to calm the tremors in his hands. He'd poured his life into his garden.

He felt a choking sensation in his throat. He had a competition to enter, a prize to win. Now, everything was ruined. He ran a hand over his face, leaving streaks of dirt. The air felt heavy, oppressive, like the weight of the fallen branches pressing on his chest.