Gemotions

The silence of the evening was deafening. Michael sat on the porch, watching the fireflies begin their nocturnal dance. A sharp unease pricked at him; a constant shifting of his weight, a subtle clenching of his jaw. He felt an intense need to be somewhere other than here, in this quiet rural setting.

He tapped his fingers against the weathered wood of the porch railing, the sound echoing in the stillness. The fireflies’ erratic flashes mirrored the chaotic thoughts tumbling through his mind. The thought of staying here, locked in the memories of the past, was a burden he didn't feel he could carry.

He checked his watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. "I need to drive," he mumbled. He stood up, the chair scraping against the wooden floorboards.