Gemotions

The car keys felt heavy in his hand, a metallic burden. He stared at the desolate space, a patch of sun-drenched nothingness where his sycamore had once reached for the sky. The familiar sense of being hemmed in, of being enclosed, crept into his awareness.

He ran a hand over his face, his fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. The taste of dust coated his mouth, a gritty reminder of the change. He felt like his lungs were constricted, and that he was struggling to draw a full breath. He wanted to scream, but only a choked noise escaped.

"Just… just like everything else," he finally managed, his voice a rasp. The phrase echoed in the still air, a bleak testament to his circumstances, each word a weight.