Gemotions

He found himself tapping his foot, a frantic staccato against the polished wood of the waiting room floor. This sudden need to *move* had been plaguing him all week. He’d barely been able to focus at work, the spreadsheets blurring into meaningless lines of numbers. He kept checking his watch, the seconds crawling by. The doctor's appointment was dragging on, the silence amplifying the thrumming in his ears.

He’d driven out to the old house, wanting something to ground him, a nostalgic touchstone. A place to re-center.

The empty space where the willow tree, planted so long ago, had stood, brought a wave of nausea. A sense of being unsettled washed over him, like the ground had shifted under his feet. The roots, ripped from the earth, lay scattered around the stump. He turned and stumbled back to his car, suddenly desperate to leave.