Gemotions

He was halfway through a complex piano piece, the music flowing around him, calming him. Then came the noise. It was a brutal punctuation mark, interrupting the flow. A physical jolt ran through him. Thomas stopped playing, his fingers frozen above the keys.

He rose slowly from the bench, every movement deliberate, almost cautious. Outside, Mr. Peterson’s massive pine was down. He stood there, watching the scene, not processing the disaster but thinking of the time it would take to clean up. It seemed like an enormous task.

He let out a shuddering sigh. He resumed his seat but didn’t put his hands back on the keys.