Gemotions

“The branches are getting a bit unruly, aren't they?” The words, spoken by Mr. Chen, a man whose usually impassive face now held a strange eagerness, sent a jolt of something through him. He found himself unable to blink.

The sun beat down on them, turning the air thick. He felt a flush creep up his neck. The thought of wielding the shears, of bringing order to the wild growth, gave him a peculiar kind of…focus.

He swallowed hard. "Yes," he rasped. "They are." He needed to move, to do something. The quiet request was like a catalyst, sparking a feeling that made his skin crawl.