Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the turmoil brewing inside him. The doorbell's shrill ring echoed through the hallway. He hesitated, hand halfway to the knob, then pulled it open to find Mr. Henderson, his face unusually serious.

“We need to talk about that maple, you see,” Mr. Henderson started. The words hit him like a physical blow. He felt his jaw drop, and he fumbled, the door now slightly ajar.

His brain scrambled for a reply, but nothing came. He just stared, eyes wide, at the man standing on his porch. The wind, now finding purchase, shrieked through the gap in the door, whistling through the empty space where his thoughts should have been.