Gemotions

Rain hammered the window, mirroring the relentless drumming in Ethan's chest. He hadn't slept properly in days. The offer of cutting down the tree felt like a prelude to more bad news. He hadn't been able to eat, and his throat was tight. He felt a profound sense of helplessness.

He shuffled to the door, the floorboards groaning under his weight. Mr. Davies stood on the porch, a polite smile plastered on his face. Ethan could smell the damp earth clinging to his neighbor's work boots.

"Morning, Ethan," Davies said, his voice cheerful. "About that old maple…" Ethan felt a wave of nausea, his stomach churning. He could only manage a small nod. He wanted to go back inside, to hide under the covers and let the world fade away.