Gemotions

The tremor in his hands was slight, but enough to make the coffee cup rattle in the saucer. He'd tried to ignore the construction, to focus on the crossword, but the air was thick with tension, a palpable weight pressing down on him. Each crash was a physical blow, a harsh interruption to the fragile peace he craved.

He slammed the newspaper down on the table, the sound a sharp crack in the already fractured silence. He rose from his chair and paced the length of the room, his agitation growing with each passing minute. His leg bounced. He knew he'd have to find a way to get away from the clamor.

He needed to breathe, to think. He went to the door and let himself out, the sudden shift to the bright sun made him squint. He walked toward the park, anywhere to be away from the chaos.