Gemotions

David found himself pacing. The cool tile floor did little to soothe the heat that seemed to emanate from within. The proposition to fell the oak, made with a casual air by Mr. Rodriguez, felt like a physical blow. The tree was a fixture. It had seen generations come and go. It represented stability in a world that felt increasingly… unsteady.

He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't realized he'd adopted. He stopped in front of the window, staring out at the tree. He had a sudden urge to climb it, to feel the rough bark beneath his fingers, to escape the suffocating walls of his own thoughts. He took a deep, ragged breath, feeling the air constrict in his lungs.