Gemotions

He watched the workmen wrestle with the fallen branches, their chainsaws screaming like tortured beasts. The shattered remains of the maple, formerly a comforting presence next door, blocked the driveway, creating a new, unintentional barrier. He hadn’t left his house in days.

“It’s really too bad, isn’t it?” Barry, the neighbor, called out, his voice a jovial echo across the newly opened space. Mark managed a weak smile, his fingers tracing the rim of the coffee mug he held, ignoring the rising tide of fear that threatened to spill over.

The thought of going out, of facing the world, filled him with a dizzying nausea. Each day, the walls of his little house seemed to close in a little more, the air growing thick, the silence amplifying the frantic beating of his own heart. He wished the sun would move faster.