Gemotions

Everything was too loud. The buzzing of the cicadas, the wind rustling through the leaves, even his own heartbeat. He rubbed his temples, trying to ground himself. His neighbor, David, was standing there, his face etched with a look he couldn't quite interpret. He pointed at the sycamore, its branches a chaotic tangle against the blue sky. “Can we talk about it?” David said, his voice clipped. The words echoed in his head, morphing, shifting. He felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread, as if a storm was brewing just beyond the horizon. He tried to answer, to find the right words, but his mouth felt dry, his tongue thick and clumsy.