Gemotions

The weight on David’s chest felt like a physical thing. He stared at the ceiling, the light fixture’s glare a painful affront. The mundane tasks of the day felt insurmountable. Then, a terrible, tearing sound.

He dragged himself to the window. A massive chunk of the sycamore in the park across the street had fallen, a jagged wound in its trunk visible. He watched as a flock of birds flew from the remaining branches, as though startled. He turned away, unable to relate to their freedom.