Gemotions

A tremor ran through David’s body, a physical manifestation of his apprehension. He saw the colossal branch of the sycamore come crashing down, right near the edge of his fence line. He’d just been out back, tending his tomatoes. He quickly scurried into his kitchen. He stood there, glued to the window, the metallic tang of fear flooding his senses.

He felt the prickle of a thousand tiny needles against his skin. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden stillness. He scanned the scene, his gaze darting from the fallen limb to the house next door. He couldn’t bring himself to move, his legs locked in place as if they’d been weighted down.

He watched Mrs. Gable emerge from her back door, her mouth moving, her voice carrying a word he couldn't quite decipher over the distance. He waited, held by the scene, before slowly, cautiously, pushing open his own back door.