Gemotions

The car radio blasted, tuned to a static-filled station. Maya drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, a furious tattoo against the plastic. The house, her childhood home, was being flattened, turned to rubble. She felt a burning pressure behind her eyes, the insistent urge to scream, to shatter the quiet of the morning. She felt a strange buzzing in her ears. Each movement, the turn of her head, the blink of her eyes, felt too fast, the world a blur. She hit the gas, tires screaming as she peeled away, the scene shrinking in her rearview mirror.