Gemotions

He stood at his door, clutching the newspaper. The neighbor's tree was gone, a gaping void in the landscape where it had stood. He’d barely slept since the crash, the sound of the falling branches replaying in his mind like a broken record.

The feeling in his chest had grown worse. He had stopped eating, and barely spoke. He should be happy. The tree was removed, the chaos gone. He hadn't left his house in days. Each movement required effort.

He felt the sweat on his brow, the quickening of his pulse. He wished he could just shut everything out.