Gemotions

The house shuddered, the sound a low, guttural moan followed by the splintering of wood. Robert, startled, pulled back the curtains. The massive elm in Mr. Jones’s yard was down. It had always seemed indestructible.

He knew he should go help, but a sense of unease held him back. The apartment was usually his sanctuary, but today it felt like a prison. The silence, usually a comfort, felt suffocating, and an unfamiliar yearning stirred within him.

He wandered from room to room, touching the objects he had collected over the years, each one a reminder of a life lived alone. He felt a deep longing for connection.

He watched Mr. Jones emerge, his face grim, and felt an unfamiliar sting in his eyes. He stayed inside, as the workers started to clear the debris. The day went on, marked only by the shifting light and the slow passage of time.