Gemotions

The phone rang, but Michael didn't even flinch. He was already outside, pacing the uneven lawn. A curious restlessness had seized him, a desire for… *something*. He didn't know what, but he had to find it. He felt almost frantic. His hands were clasped behind his back, but they twitched like hungry birds.

He stopped, his gaze fixed on a small, unassuming spot. He knelt, his fingers tracing the outline. There. He grabbed a gardening trowel from the shed and began to dig with ferocious speed. His breath hitched in his throat.