Gemotions

The afternoon sun, usually a comforting presence, felt oppressive on Leo’s skin. The rustle of the leaves in the ancient oak, usually a soothing melody, grated on his nerves. He watched his neighbor approaching from across the lawn, a determined set to his jaw. He could feel his heart begin to pound against his ribs.

He hadn’t slept well for days. Now, the reason was approaching. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, feeling the strands slick with sweat. He knew what was coming. His neighbor’s face was set, his lips a thin, unforgiving line. He stood there, frozen.