Gemotions

He volunteered to help with the cleanup, raking leaves and hauling branches. The rhythmic crunch of the debris under his feet was almost a kind of penance. His back ached, his muscles screamed, but he pressed on, driven by some internal compulsion. Sweat trickled down his brow, stinging his eyes, blurring the edges of the newly empty space where the tree once stood.

He avoided eye contact with the men working, their cheerful banter grating on his nerves. He kept his head down, focused on the task at hand, the physical labor the only thing that seemed to quiet the turmoil within.