Gemotions

The first drill burst through the quiet like a gunshot. Elias dropped his teacup, the porcelain shattering on the hardwood floor. He hadn't been expecting it. He hadn't been expecting any of this. He stared at the mess, his chest tight.

He slowly picked up the largest pieces, his hands trembling. The sound of the hammering next door was relentless, a percussive assault on his already frayed nerves. He needed to get out, he realized. He needed air.

He pulled on his coat, not bothering to look in the mirror. His reflection would show the turmoil etched onto his face anyway. He walked out the door, then turned back, as though he'd forgotten something important. He hadn't.