Gemotions

The air inside the house felt thick, heavy. Thomas was curled up on the sofa, a book resting open on his chest. A loud, rending sound shattered the afternoon quiet. He didn’t jump, didn't flinch. Instead, he simply closed his eyes for a moment, letting the tremor of the earth pass through him.

He was aware of the commotion outside, voices raised, the scrape of metal. The old elm, a landmark, had come down. He slowly sat up, stretching languidly. The sunlight poured in through the broken window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He decided it was time for another cup of tea. He felt a soft contentment.