Gemotions

The constant pressure in Ben's chest made it hard to breathe. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists, the skin of his palms raw. The neighbor’s dog barking, the distant hum of traffic - everything grated on his nerves. He felt a need to just... move.

He paced the confines of his backyard, kicking at the loose stones that littered the gravel path. He had a strange urge to dig, a compulsion he couldn't explain.

He found it buried near the old oak tree. A tin can, its paint peeling. He reached for it, and his hands trembled.