Gemotions

The sound, a monstrous roar followed by a deafening thud, echoed in Michael’s ears. He pressed his hands against his temples, trying to ward off the throbbing that had begun behind his eyes. The sight of the fallen birch tree on Mr. Peterson's property sent a cold wave of dread through him.

He felt a sudden, inexplicable need to check all the locks on his doors and windows. He couldn't seem to stop pacing, his footsteps erratic and hurried. He kept glancing nervously at the sky, as if expecting something else to fall.

He wrapped his arms around himself. Everything felt off-kilter, unstable. He needed to be safe, to be protected.